


Constants and Variables

by Ryzi



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: AU, Action, Alternate Timelines, Columbia - Freeform, Concept, F/M, Lemon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryzi/pseuds/Ryzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When two constants come together, the only variable is the outcome." -Robert Lutece<br/>You x DeWitt<br/>(Alternate Timeline Warning)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Subject to Change

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhkay Dok-ay  
> So, here is the first chapter of a new series with an uncreative title.  
> I just had this ideas after I beat infinite and, yeah!  
> Yes, the verbs do change from past to present tense, but I think you'll  
> catch on as to why.  
> I hope you enjoy.

“I raise you fifty.” You declared lowly, dropping the bills on the table and bringing your gaze up to your opponent.

“…I…Ms. (surname) I already owe you enough don’t I?” He gulped.

“Well you should have thought about that before gambling away your life savings Mr. Johnson.” A smile graced your ruby red lips as you laid down your cards, another winning hand, “I expect you pay off that debt by the end of the month. If you don’t…well…I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

The man shakily rose and left the back room of the bar, you grabbed the wad of cash from the center of the table and counted your earnings, yes this would be enough for rent, groceries, to pay your guard, and perhaps some left over for a treat. This was your life; you were a “Shark”, a debt collector. You lent out cash to gambling addicts, watched them lose it all, and then asked for it back, with interest. Most of your clients couldn’t pay you back, which left you with a nice array of “compensation items”. Jewelry from wives, stolen radios, watches, anything you believed would satisfy the debt.

You were leaving the casino like you owned the place. A strong hand tapped your shoulder; you turned to see a bulky man, probably in his forties, behind you.

“Evening ma’am.” He spoke gruffly, “Need an escort?”

“Oh no. I already have one.” You smiled; the man roughly grabbed your arm.

“I _insist_.”

* * *

 

“AUGH!” You awaken from the nightmare with a scream and instinctively feel your right side, “ _Right…that was 1908…4 years ago…_.” You wipe the sleep from your eyes and look around at your small apartment, the clock next to your bed reads 10:50am.

“Shoot!” You declare to yourself, “I forgot the alarm again…” You fling the sheets off of your bed and run to the small bathroom in your apartment, quickly washing off your face and changing into your uniform. You dash out the door, locking it behind you and nearly trip into the lobby.

“Late again (name)?” The landlord laughs, you force a guilty smile and pace out the front door, your heels clacking loudly against the steps outside.

You quickly walk down the sidewalk to the trolley-stop and wait, tapping an impatient foot against the pavement. You glance at the clock next to the tracks. 10:55, it takes an hour for the trolley to reach your next stop, you look down the tracks to see the electric railcar bustle to the platform. As soon as the brakes screech to a stop you hop onto the railcar along with a few other passengers and were off.

The wind feels good as it rushes past you; the soft chatter around you is soothing and almost has you forget that you’re on the verge of being late for work. You definitely prefer this life over your old one. You look out the open window at the buildings and people passing by, the sun warming your arms as you lean over the windowsill. Nothing is going to ruin this day, even if you’re now probably late.

* * *

 

The trolley slows to a stop in front of the hospital; you stroll off and into the large building. Past the double doors, doctors scurry across the pristine floors, clipboards in hand, and apathetic looks on their faces. You walk up to the front desk to the secretary.

“Cutting it close today (name).” She scolds, not looking up from her papers.

“Yeah. I had a nightmare.” You try to excuse yourself.

“Excuses, excuses”

You huff and turn on a heel, casually making your way to your station. This is your life now, a nurse in a large hospital, tending to patients, filing the occasional paper, assisting doctors, something much tamer and safer than before.

The outpatient beds are nearly empty today, only a few are occupied since those beds have curtains hanging around them. You watch as some of your co-workers stroll about laxly from bed to bed, a few with coffee in their hands. Yes, today is going to be nice and easy.

“Ah, (name)?” One of the nurses asks as she walks up to you, “You…have a patient request…” She finishes, looking just as puzzled as you and points to a bed in the far right corner of the room. You just nod and swiftly pace to the bed.

“Won, wins, will win.” A male voice chirps. You raise a brow and look over the man. He is dressed formally, his ginger hair is slicked back cleanly, and his hands are folded on his lap, “My sister believes that you cannot change the inevitable.”

“Because you cannot.” A female voice seems to echo from the next bed over, she looks identical to the male, down to the clothes, the only difference being she has a skirt while he has slacks.

“Excuse me?” You purse your lips in confusion and look between the twins.

“I do believe we have found the one—“

“Or will find the one.” The female seems to correct her brother sharply.

“Hm, no. This is it. The one.”

“Excuse me.” You raise your voice, catching the attention of the two “patients”, “I believe you are looking for the sanatorium, which is in the other wing of the hospital. I will gladly escort you if you so desire.”

“Ah, but before you do,” The male twin starts, “Answer me this. When you add a constant—“

“And another constant—“

“What do you get?”

You shake your head and furrow your brow, confused at the question, asking it again in your thoughts.

“Um…A…constant?” You answer quizzically.

“See brother?” The female chimes up.

“I disagree; the only outcome is a variable.”

“I think _you_ need the sanatorium more than I.” She states, rising to her feet, patting the sheets off out of courtesy.

You stand there, utterly baffled at what the two were blathering on about.

“ _What an odd pair_ ” You ponder, letting the twins finish their conversation.

“—but enough about who’s right or wrong, she’s the one, end of story.” The male turn to you and pulls out an envelope from his breast pocket and holds it out to you. You hesitantly take the envelope and look at it, your name is written on the front in fancy script, you flip it over and open up the flap. Inside you find two tickets for the airship, a certificate stating you won an “all-expenses-paid” trip to the floating resort city of Columbia, and a note. You unfold the paper, it reads:

                _(name),_

_You (were, are, will be) part of a change. My sister (did, does, will) not believe me when I (told, tell, will tell) her you (were, are, will be) important. Even if we (were, are, will be) one in the same person. You (had, have, will have) a small frame of opportunity when it counts, make use of it. Remember, when two constants come together, the only variable is the outcome._

_Sweet Dreams,_

_R. Lutece_

“What?” You look up to find the Lutece twins gone, “Odd pair.” You mutter to yourself before turning to tend to other patients and go about your regular duties.

* * *

 

“Nine o’ clock; see you!” You bid farewell to your coworkers and head back to the front desk, the hospital had quieted down and the only noise is the secretary typing away on the typewriter.

“I’m requesting a week-long vacation, starting tomorrow.” You state confidently to the secretary who just glares at you.

“Why?” She asks and resumes typing up the daily reports.

“Because I haven’t taken a vacation since I started working here three years ago, and just last week you had me on double-shifts every day.”

“Your paycheck.” She sasses back and rolls her eyes as you triumphantly leave.

Once outside you look up to the cloudless sky at the floating lights of the city up above then close your eyes and sigh, recalling your knowledge of the city.

* * *

 

It was ten years ago when the city was launched into the skies. Four innovators with the help of one of the brightest physicists the country could offer created the floating resort of Columbia. It was said to be a flying paradise, people from all over paid outrageously to spend even a day up in the clouds. You had even heard of people moving up into the sky. At one point in your past life you considered spending a week or two up there when the city made its route over yours, but you had debts to collect and people to rob. You had a few “friends” who had gone up though and said that it was like nothing they had ever seen before.

“Well of course, have you ever been in the sky?” You would always laugh in reply.

* * *

 

But now, you are going to be up there for a week, for free! You giggle to yourself and skip to the trolley stop, singing cheerful tunes as you wait. The night is still as lively as ever, and a part of you has the urge to go out and exploit people for all they’re worth.

“No…” You remind yourself, bringing a hand to your right side, “Not again.”

The trolley rolls up to the stop and you step on, sitting next to a random person.

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” He mentions to you, his voice striking a familiar chord, “Are you headed home?”

You turn your head to see the male Lutece smiling slightly in your direction.

“Actually, yes.” You confirm, brushing off some imaginary dust from your uniform, “Thank you for the tickets.”

“They are yours anyways.”

“Or will be.” You hear his female counterpart chime.

“ _Oh no._ ” You mentally prepare yourself for the banter to come.

But it never does, once again the two seem to vanish into thin air. The bell on the railcar chimes, signaling your stop. You depart the vehicle and practically skip back to your apartment.

“You seem awfully cheery.” The landlord smiles as you dance into the lobby; a few other residents look at you as if you were mad.

“Luck was on my side today! I got two tickets for an-expenses-paid trip to Columbia!” If anyone was trying to ignore you, they weren’t now.

“Wow. Two?! How’d you manage that one?” Your neighbor asks as she rocked her newborn baby in her arms.

“Just…luck.” You’d rather not say “ _Oh just some odd gentleman who spoke in riddles gave them to me_ ”.

“Wow…So…do you ‘ave a ‘special someone’, whose gonna get the other one?” The landlord laughs as he softly elbows your side.

“Ah…well…There aren’t any dates on them, so maybe I’ll just go again.” You watched his expression fall slightly, “But I need to pack my things for tomorrow. Good night everyone.” You bid farewell and walked up to your apartment.

* * *

 

As you lay down for bed, thoughts were swimming in your mind, keeping you awake. You stare out the window and smile, just thinking of all the things you were going to do up in the sky. Your eyelids begin to grow heavier as they close, but not for long it seems.

* * *

 

A bright white light erupted in your room and opens up and revealed a group of girls smothering something in the water. You watched the scene before you unfold; soon the girls began to vanish, one by one. You found yourself drawn to this portal of sorts as you slowly trudge towards the light.

“ _You (had, have, will have) a small frame of opportunity when it counts, make use of it.”_ The voice of the one Lutece echoed in your mind.

You thoughtlessly wander through the light into this new “world” and to the spot where the girls are. You felt something bump into your leg. You looked down and saw a man submerged in the water. Panic set in as you frantically grab the drowned man’s arms and with adrenaline-fueled strength, pulled him out of the portal and into your apartment. The light behind you faded, but you paid it no mind, there was an unconscious man on your floor now.

Your nurse training kicked in, quickly you tore open the soaked shirt and pressed your ear to his chest.

His pulse was faint and weakening.

You immediately resorted to chest compressions, counting to yourself “one, two, three, four…” all the way up to thirty. You pinch his nose and move to do a rescue breath. But before you even tilt his chin up…

_Guh-HAHCK!_

He rolls over and coughs up a good bit of water and passes out. You checked his pulse again, this time it’s stronger and a little faster than normal—probably from that sudden outburst. You jumped up and ran to your bathroom, collecting all your towels and covering the now shivering man in them.

With that all done, you tiredly trudged back into bed.

“Some dream…” You yawn to yourself as you fell back asleep.

 

 


	2. Strange People and Sweet Rolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaay chapter 2

Two questions cross your mind in the early hours of the morning. One, why were all your towels missing? Two, why is there a man passed out on your floor with said towels?

“…That wasn’t a dream…” You state the obvious to yourself. The man groans softly and turns on his side, coughing a few times.

“What the hell…” He grunts painfully and sits up, rubbing the back of his head.

Your eyes widen and you step back, was that portal real? Did you really just take some man from an alternate dimension and drag him into your apartment? It makes your head spin just trying to comprehend it all.

The man looks up at you and shakily stands, he stumbles towards you, making you stagger back more.

“What…have you done…He’ll come back! It’ll just cycle over again!” Blood trickled down from the man’s nose, “And what about this time? What if I run into the me of this time?!” He is speaking gibberish to you as he falls back on his knees, more blood flows from his nose.

“S-sir…You’re… _bleeding_ …” You take a step forward then feel a new presence in the room.

“Such an occurrence happens to one who crosses into a new time.” The female Lutece states as she folds a towel over her arm, “The mind tries to piece everything together.”

“But, this is what he wanted. A time with no Comstock. We wanted it too. The other girl held up her end.” You can tell the male twin is not referring to you, “You see…”

“There never was a Booker DeWitt in this timeline.” Both twins say in unison. This shocks the man as he gags and coughs up blood.

“What’s going on?!” You nearly cry, stumbling over to the twins, “What do you mean ‘timelines’, who is this ‘Comstock’, this ‘Booker DeWitt’, what?!”

“I believe that he should tell you, when he’s stable enough.” The female mentions, hanging another towel, “But, you’ve played your current role well.”

“I couldn’t agree more, I do hope you play your other roles just as well.” The other Lutece finishes with a smile. The duo stride past you, leaving without a sound.

You turn to the man, whom is trying to regain his composure now. He grabs one of the newly folded towels and wipes his face clean of the blood, staining your towel.

“Sorry.” He apologizes curtly, “I should go—“

“Oh-ho…just you wait there.” You cut him off, feeling slightly agitated from this sudden event, “Who are you?”

“Name’s DeWitt. Booker DeWitt.” You look him over. He definitely was not unfortunate looking, in fact you consider him to be rather attractive—besides the few bloodstains on his lapel. His eyes are a harsh shade of hazel-green; his messy brunette hair is pushed over to one side; his skin is tan and weather-worn. He’s slightly broader than the average man; you can tell he’s done things he regrets from the sadness behind his eyes.

“Nice to meet you Mr. DeWitt, I’m (name) (surname).” You hold out a hand, which he takes and kisses the back of your palm. You smile slightly.

“Now…If you would just excuse me, I have a trip to go on…To Columbia.”

Booker’s eyes widen and he steps back.

“Columbia?” He repeats.

“Yes. Why, is that a problem?” You face the mirror in your room and begin to brush out your (length) (color) hair.

“No. Not at all. I’ll…Just go now. Sorry for intruding.” Booker apologizes once more before finding his way out of your apartment.

You button up a simple cotton shirt and tuck it into your calf-length maroon skirt. You lace up your boots, pull a vest and jacket over your shirt, and rest a slightly oversized sun hat on your head. You grab your luggage and stuff the tickets into your purse.

You cautiously make your way down the stairs with your luggage in tow and into the lobby where you see some sort of commotion taking place.

* * *

 

“Tell me how you got in here.” The landlord demands, staring down Booker from the front counter. Booker can only stammer, unsure of what to say. You find your neighbor watching from a distance and walk over to her.

“What happened?” You ask, although you’re pretty sure what happened.

“This strange man just came down this morning…I’ve never seen him. He isn’t causing trouble, but you know how the landlord is…” She trails off, a worried expression on her face.

Your landlord slams his hands on the counter and demands a reason for the stranger’s sudden arrival again.

“He just got in last night!” You pipe up, pacing quickly next to Booker and wrapping an arm around his. You feel his muscles tense up at your touch. The landlord gives you a quizzical look and focuses on you.

“Oh? So why didn’t you let him in through the front door?”

Booker looks at you as well, awaiting your excuse.

“It was very late sir, and I didn’t wish to disturb anyone. So…I let him…through the…window.” Your voice falters a little. You catch the ex-investigator wince as if to mentally face palm.

“Yeah…She did. Sorry about that.” He adds after wincing.

“Sure…Well use the door next time.”

You lead Booker away from the counter and pull him closer to your face by the collar of his shirt. He jolts back slightly from the motion.

“Look…I can’t have you running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off…” You pull the extra ticket from your bag and tuck it in his palm, “So here, you’ll come with me…”

“I’m 38…I don’t need an escort.” He scoffs and looks at the ticket. You just roll your eyes and leave him there while you go to say goodbye to your neighbor.

“He’s quite the catch.” She says as soon as you’re in earshot, you instantly jerk your head back from her comment and exhale sharply. She smiles at your reaction and places her hand on your shoulder. You weakly return the smile and shrug off her hand.

“Don’t worry about your room dear, I’ll make sure no more men come through your window.” She jokes; you just deadpan and turn on your heel back to Booker whom is now staring out to the street.

You place a hand on his back to grab his attention. He turns his head to you and raises a brow.

“We’re going now.” You pick up your bags and walk out the door, not waiting for him.

You hear him jog to your side to catch up, “I said I didn’t need an escort.”

A scoff passes your lips, “I never said I was your escort. You just decided to follow me.” “ _But it’s not like I mind._ ” You finished mentally. Booker falls silent as if he was pondering something.

* * *

 

It’s another beautiful day in the city. Children run across the street in a game of tag. Mothers hang their laundry from building to building. The warm summer air floats around you as the sun conquers the sky with not a cloud in sight. On days like this you can clearly see Columbia floating above the city. The sounds of the passing people hover in the air, filling the city with life. The scent of the bakery putting in a new set of loaves is intoxicating, your stomach growls angrily. Right, with all the chaos you hadn’t eaten yet.

Apparently Booker heard this, “You hungry?” he asks. You nod and stare at the bakery across the street, noticing the baker’s wife placing out a fresh tray of sweet rolls. Your stomach growls louder at the sight.

The war hero leaves you in the dust as he crosses the street to the sweet-smelling shop; you scurry after him and waltz into the building, the scent of those glorious sweet rolls only intensifying.

“Mornin’~” The baker smiles, “What can I get’cha?”

“A sweet roll please.” You order.

“Two actually.” Booker interjects, pulling out his wallet. The baker just smiles again and places two sweet rolls in a bag, handing them over the counter.

“Four silver eagles please.” He holds out a palm and your new partner places the exact change in the baker’s hand. You shoot a glare at Booker and take the bag of rolls from him.

As you exit the shop with Booker you notice two all-too-familiar faces sitting at an outside table, but decide to pay them no mind.

“It’s such a lovely day for such a lovely couple.” You hear the baker’s wife say as you pass her, you notice Booker glance around to see whom she was referring to.

“You have to love when the ignorant state the truth.” Rosalind comments just loud enough for you to hear.

“You mean, _will be_ the truth.” Robert corrects his sister, equally as loud.

You pick up the pace to get away from everyone.

* * *

 

The dock for Columbia is a literal dock off the edge of a cliff. You watch as people bustle back and forth with their luggage, boarding or leaving their flight. Conductors shout commands to other conductors as the next airship gets ready to take off. The pace picks up as people frantically cram into the cabin. You laugh at how they swarm like angry hornets onto the aircraft.

“Next flight isn’t for another hour.” Booker declares walking up next to you, “I doubt we’ll make this one.”

You mutter a “yes” and nod, watching the large balloon drift up and away slowly towards the floating resort. It wasn’t long now.

The two of you decide to finally dig into those sweet rolls you purchased from the bakery. Finding a shady tree, you set your luggage aside and sit on the grass. Booker takes a seat across from you and digs out a roll, holding it out to you.

“Y’know…I could have paid.” You take the roll and feel that it’s still warm. The baked dough is soft and moist; the icing slowly drips onto your fingers as you bring the pastry to your lips, inhaling the sickeningly sweet mixture of cinnamon, honey, and sugar.

“Think of it as thanks for…saving me.” He mentions, taking his own roll from the bag and biting down into it.

“Oh…you’re welcome.” You don’t realize how hungry you are until you have a chunk of roll, hanging disgracefully from your teeth after taking such a large bite. Your face flushes in embarrassment as you face the dilemma of whether to pluck the excess dough from your teeth or attempt to stuff it in with the rest. You snap your head to the side and push the dough into your cheek, its warmth filling your mouth as you sigh contently.

Booker snickers and you glare at him, ready to retort, but remember that your mouth is full. He holds out a flask to you, “Here. I think you need this.” He laughs. You greedily grab the flask and take a swig, probably as ungracefully as possible. It isn’t until it’s too late you realized what you just drank. A sudden burn stings your throat as you cough violently.

“W-whiskey?!” You sputter.

“Well what else?” The ex-investigator shrugs and takes a drink.

“Yes, what else would it be?” Robert and Rosalind chime as they stroll up to the tree.

“ _I’m getting really tired of these two_.” You growl internally.

“Are you two getting along?” The female twin coos, twirling her parasol.

“I _told_ you she was the one.” Her brother says with a smirk.

“Yes yes. And you will tell me a million and three more times.” Rosalind huffs as she saunters away.

“Sorry about that. She gets a trifle ruffled when she’s wrong.” Robert seemed to chuckle, following his sister into the distance.

Booker looked off at the horizon, deep in thought. You finish your roll in a few bites and wipe your fingers on your handkerchief. You could still hear the chatter from the docks. A cheerful sparrow hopped across the healthy green grass, occasionally pecking at the dirt. You watched the small bird chitter gleefully before taking flight.

“So, tell me, how old are you (name)?”

You make a small exclamation in shock and place a hand to your collar bone, “Excuse me?!” you gasp.

“Just a question…” He mutters, looking over at the dock now.

“I’m thirty three…” You grumble.

This catches his attention, “Really? I wouldn’t take you for a day over twenty-nine. You look young for your age.”

“Thank you.” You stand up and brush off your skirt, grabbing your bags, “The Airship should be here soon. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all enjoying this~


	3. Carepackages and Carnivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Last chapter for a while. Like I said before, I'm going to be very busy this coming week. SooooOOooo don't expect much (if anything) for like...a few weeks. Cauuuse I won't be writing at all.

The trip up to Columbia is taking much longer than you expect. The Airship moves at a snail's pace, but luckily there are a few things to busy yourself with. You open up one of your bags and pull out a small journal and pencil. You take a seat next to one of the windows and begin to write down the events of yesterday. You always had a thing about documentation. Keeping track of events for reference, in case you should need them for whatever reason. You describe the 'dream' you had, your meetings with the Lutece twins and how they seem to be following you, and Booker. You nearly took up the entire page describing him, you then read back over the page.

"He definitely is a strange fellow." You close the journal and look over at him while he idly talks to a few other citizens. Booker catches your gaze and cracks a smile.

"This is a life I think I can get used to..." He says as he approaches you and sits, "It's a lot better than the othe-Ah shit..." he curses and wipes away the blood that drips from his nose.

You look intensely at him, evaluating what lie behind his eyes. In a moment you shift back and slightly cock your head, "You were a gambler." You state. Booker looks at you with surprise and scoots back.

"How do you figure that?"

"I can see it in your eyes. I've seen men like you Booker. Men who lose it all. Men who've left a red trail. Men who've tried to fix it." Your sudden outburst has an impact on the man next to you, "I'm right. Aren't I?" He doesn't answer and looks away.

"That doesn't matter." He grumbles.

" _I was right._ " You think and sigh, "I suppose not, sorry."

"No. It's fine (name), your perception is pretty amazing though."

It quickly grows silent between the both of you. You twiddle your thumbs and whistle a soft tune, hoping to pass the time quicker. This airship couldn't move any slower now. You watch the other guests happily converse with one another as you and Booker sit in an awkward silence.

"What about you? Surely since you can tell so much from just my expression means you had to be in my position once." You snap your head up and face the ex-gambler.

"That doesn't matter." You quickly retort. Booker nods his head up and purses his lips, obviously dissatisfied with your reply.

"We have reached Columbia." The conductor announces, you hop up and grab your bags then rush to the doors to avoid further confrontation.

* * *

Columbia is more beautiful than you ever imagined. The skyline seems to kiss the heavens, you notice a small group of people fly through the air on a rail, entertainers sing and dance around the docks, vendors sell a variety of items each with their own individual smell, and a large blip floats by advertising the 10 year anniversary of the resort. Your jaw drops as well do your bags, it's simply too much to take in. You run over to the railings and peak over the edge, staring at the city below and how small it looks.

Childlike curiosity fills you as you pick up your bags and twirl to the center of the resort city. "This is amazing!" You squeal, holding your hat as a gust of wind blows past. It's something akin to a movie scene, a new city, new people, it's breathtaking.

"Hey! Slow down!" Booker calls out, "Careful out here...sheesh."

"...Ah yes, of course, I could get hurt from all this excitement." You reply sarcastically and roll your eyes with a groan.

"Real mature (name)."

"I know~" You smile and laugh, "Lighten up Booker. If you're going to just be a sour puss you can do it on your own time."

Now it's Booker's turn to roll his eyes and groan. You reach into your purse and pull out the certificate signifying your 'win'.

"Monument Hotel...Hm." You turn over the certificate to see a picture of a grand building with a large golden statue of an angel in front of it, "Looks really nice. Don't you think?" You hold the picture up to Booker, he nods and proceeds to look at the surrounding area. You stroll off towards the west, where a sign that reads "To Monument Hotel" hangs over the path.

(line)

"Now _this_ is a hotel." You mumble, staring at the grandeur structure. Each window has its own balcony where one could watch the city and drink their afternoon tea. The courtyard garden is in full bloom and butterflies dance around the delicate flowers. Hotel guests leisurely stroll about, making idle conversation to one another. You look over your shoulder and see Booker staring at the large, golden, angel statue in the center of the garden. You fall into step and pace over to him and look up at the statue as well.

"She's beautiful." You comment, looking over at your companion. Upon closer inspection you notice the way Booker has his hand pressed up under his nose to feign a look of thought when he is really holding back another nosebleed. His eyes flicker a deep sadness behind the hazel-green irises.

"I'm sorry Ana...Elizabeth." He whispers. You cock a brow and tap his arm, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Come on. I think you need this vacation more than I do." Booker nods slightly and follows you into the hotel.

The lobby is beyond gorgeous. The large crystal chandelier reflects the light from outside, casting small rainbows around the room. Every employees is kind and polite as they attend to all the guests. A few children prance across the polished marble floors after a toy. You waltz up to the front counter where a cheerful receptionist greets you. You hold out the certificate and she take it.

"Ah. Congratulations!" She holds out a key, "Fifth floor. I hope you and your husband enjoy your stay."

You hear Booker nearly choke after hearing the receptionist's assumption. You take the key and force out a smile.

"W-we will."

The two of you head to the elevator.

"Which floor?" The operator chimes and readies his hand at the lever.

"Five." You reply.

"Right-o! Floor five!" He salutes and pulls back the lever, sending the elevator up. After a minute or two, the elevator reaches the fifth floor. You and Booker step out and head down the hall to your room.

* * *

"...Man...It should be illegal for a bed to be this soft." You proclaim, face down in the plush blankets. You turn your head to Booker who is standing out on the balcony.

There is a knock at the door. You push yourself off the mattress and walk over to the door. You look out the peep hole to see a hotel employee standing at the door with a suitcase. You raise your eyebrow but open the door anyways.

"Can I help you?"

The young man just holds out the suitcase, "Y'forgot ya luggage ma'am." You hesitantly take the suitcase, feeling its sudden weight in your hands. What was in this thing? Rocks? The employee had already ran off by the time you bring yourself to ask him why he had this. You look at the tag.

_Property of Booker DeWitt_

"Booker? What?" You drag the suitcase to the middle of the room and place it on the coffee table, not wanting to open it. You walk out to the balcony where the ex-investigator is leaning on the railing, a smoldering cigarette crunched between his teeth as smoke floats from his lips. He scratches his chin and glances at you, his eyes flicker a bit in surprise from your sudden appearance.

"Hm?" He grunts and pulls the cigarette from his mouth, "What is it?"

"You...have a...package?" You point to the suitcase on the table. Booker cocks his head and leaves to investigate the strange package.

A set of hands close the balcony doors close in front of you. The Lutece twins stepping in front. You gasp and jump back.

"Agh...Stop that." You grunt, "How'd you even get here?"

"How did we not? " Rosalind smiled.

"You had something to do with that suitcase, didn't you..." You purse your lips.

"Just a care package. Don't be jealous, we brought you one too." Robert holds out a long wooden box with a gold name plate on top, it reads "Sky Hook" in embossed silver letters. You open the case to find some strange hook device. You take the device from its velvet bed and place it over your non-dominant hand, spinning the hooks with a pull of the trigger mechanism.

"Ah and I think you'll recognize these." The twins say in unison and each hold out a pair of throwing knives. Your eyes widen and grab the weapons, running your fingers over the hilts, feeling the intricate patterns impressed in the leather.

"I lost these years ago." You mutter.

"Or so you thought." The twins chuckle and vanish while you aren't looking. You look at your newly-acquired weapons and walk back inside.

Booker adjusts his suspenders then rolls up his sleeves on a new clean shirt. He pulls out his own Sky Hook and smiles, toying with the revolving hooks.

"So...You got one too..." You state, breaking his concentration.

"Means this isn't _just_ a vacation (name)." He looks back in the suitcase and digs through its contents, his face falls at one particular object. You stroll next to him, look over his shoulder and snicker.

* * *

You had really outdone yourself this time. You mentally pat your back and wait outside the red and white striped tent. You weren't going to let some grim calling card from two strange gingers keep you from enjoying your vacation. The first place you wanted to go was Battleship Bay. How there is a beach and ocean in the sky is beyond you, but it is definitely a feat in its own. People splashed in the waves, children built sand castles on the shore, and some napped under oversized umbrellas.

"You could have just gone without me." Booker grumbles from inside the tent.

"I could have. But I didn't." You retort and play with the skirt of your jumper.

"Of all the places..." He begins.

"Oh hush you. Just come out." You cut him off. You can hear him audibly groan before pushing back the curtain. A snicker escapes your lips and you bring and hand to cover your mouth. Booker was standing uncomfortably in a Jantzen wool swimsuit with slightly obnoxious red, white, and blue stripes running horizontally around his body. The fabric stretches tightly over his abdomen, showing off the hints of defined pectorals and abdominals. A heated blush spreads across your face. You hear a small cluster of women comment on him as they walk by.

"Here, give me those." You take the bundle of clothes from the man, "You know. I would have just gone on my own eventually." You admit with a smirk.

Booker scowls at you and reaches for the clothes. You turn on your heel and dash to the water's edge, Booker chasing after you. He breaks into a full-out sprint and charges forth, you duck under his grasp and he trips into the pseudo-sea. You nearly fall over laughing.

"You're terrible." He coughs, trudging out of the water. You toss the clothing to the side and cross your arms with a smile.

"I know." You giggle. Booker draws closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, his face twisted in a forced smile. His grip tightens and another arm slinks under your leg as Booker hoists you up and over his shoulder and tosses you into the water. You shriek from the sudden chill and jump up, kicking the icy water at him.

"Damn it! Stop that!" He growls and throws a handful of water at you. You leap at him and knock him into an artificial wave.

A shrill tweet stops the both of you. A police officer jogs up to the shore.

"Sir...ma'am...I'm afraid I have to ask you both to leave. Disturbing the peace and whatnot." He kneads his fingers. You simply nod and leave the water, not wanting to make a scene.

* * *

"...wow...You're...too good at this Booker." You comment as he shoots down the moving targets with amazing accuracy. Booker just grunts and pulls the trigger a few more times, taking out three more targets. The buzzer sounds and he puts down the air rifle.

By now the two of you had changed back into your regular clothes-much to your dismay. Booker suggested that perhaps strolling through the carnival would be tamer.

The ex-gambler doesn't react to your comment and strolls down the lane, you follow at a short distance, slightly distracted by the flashing lights and bright decorations. Stray balloons lazily float up and away into the twilight sky. A wave of melancholy washes over you. The day is ending and will soon be over. You pick up the pace and fall into step with Booker, he glances down at you then looks away.

A strange warmness fills your chest and heats your cheeks. It's nice to have a companion to spend the day with, you decide. It's better than being alone. You unconsciously shuffle a little closer to the man and inhale deeply. Even after a change of clothes and being shoved into the "sea", he smells faintly of tobacco and some sort of musky cologne. Your smile widens for a moment then fades into a somber frown.

" _Stop it (name). Don't grow too attached. Remember what happened last time._ " You stroke your right side and sigh.

"(Name)?" Booker taps your arm.

"What? Oh...sorry, I...spaced out." You mumble.

A bell chimes, echoing around the city.

"It is now eight o'clock. Curfew will be taking effect in one hour. We hope you enjoyed your day." A male voice announces. Parents lead their children quickly away from the grounds. You and Booker share a look of confusion and shrug.

"Excuse me." He asks, approaching a guard, "What's this curfew?"

"Ah...Just a little something we implement for the..." the guard looks over his shoulder, "Younger crowd. Come back here at ten. Ah and...take this." the guard hands Booker two new tickets.

Booker returns to you and holds out one of the tickets.

"He said to come back at ten...What do you think it is?" He begins to walk towards the exit, you follow.

"Uh..." You look at the slip of paper, " 'The time of your life' well...that could mean anything."

With a burning curiosity inside, the two of you agree to investigate this after-dark attraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh yes. Some "fanservice" if thats what you can call it. 1900's swimsuits are so cute. Like, go look at them.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> And I hope you drop a little note. I love reading comments and seeing what you all think of this!  
> Love you all


	4. Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAH TAKE THAT SCHOOL! -kicks away all work-   
> Wait -picks up work- I need this to pass.  
> So how are you all. It's been a while.   
> Enough about my life.  
> Here's an extra long chapter.

“So (name) what do you think is involved in these ‘after hour’ activities?” Booker asks through the door as you freshen up in the washroom. You puff some powder on your cheeks before replying.

“I’m not sure, probably some burlesque shows, gambling, drinking, and all those naughty things you hide from the sun.” You chuckle and adjust your corset, making sure it was comfortable enough to move in, but still retain a shape. You pull up a pair of black stockings and strap a garter around your (non-dominant) thigh, and then you slide the layered holsters for your knives over the strap. You reach for your knives, only to realize you forgot them out in the main room. You huff agitatedly and finish dressing yourself in a fine (color) gown.

You step out of the wash room and scurry over to the set of knives on the table, quickly picking them up and carefully placing them in their respective sheaths.

“Why do you have those?” Booker asks, startling you.

“…Just—“

“You’ve used them before.” He cuts you off. You hang your head and sigh with a slight nod, “They’re too sharp to be just for show. So why do you have them?”

You look at the war hero, thinking up a way to avoid the incoming conversation.

“Well you’re awfully dressed up tonight.” Your voice rises slightly as you change the subject, “Look at that, nice suit, shaven…” You squint and smirk a knowing smile, “You going to try and win big tonight?”

Booker gives you a deadpan glare, “Don’t change the subject, look; if we’re going to be working together we need some understanding of each other. You’ve already got the gist of my story down with just a look, but I need a little more than that from you.”

Damn he’s a tough one, “I’m a nurse.” You state, but he just keeps his dissatisfied glare.

“Alright; if you can give me a better reason than the typical ‘we’re working together’—which I don’t even recall this becoming some kind of job—then I’ll tell you anything you need to know, alright?”

“Fine.” Booker agrees and straightens his tie.

" _...close call._ " You exhale and think.

* * *

 

The two of you head back to the boardwalk to find a new attraction set up. All of the vendors are still set up, but instead of games, there are side shows. Small performances put on by some sort of circus troupe. On one platform a woman strokes her long beard and braids it between her finely manicured nails. On another a man is juggling flaming axes on a unicycle. You wonder why these attractions are hidden from the day time, they seem harmless enough.

"Come...Come this way..." A voice beckons you to a tent, "Madam Fitzroy asks of you to come this way"

You notice Booker stop in his tracks and stare at the tent. He gulps and his hands tense into fists. He brings a hand to his head and groans, a drop of blood falls from his nose and he leans over with another grunt.

"I...I need to keep moving..." He huffs and paces further ahead, leaving you to only stare at the dark tent with a candle flickering above the entrance.

Curiosity strikes you and you wander in, instantly smelling the different incenses and candles that littered the room. It is dark and you can barely see in front of your nose, you outstretch your arms and try to feel around for a chair.

Two sets of hands push you down into a chair, you lash back but by then the hands are gone. A glimmer reflects off of a crystal ball and a face appears above it. Two dark eyes stare at you in the dim light, a shiver rolls down your spine.

"Welcome...To the tent of the Vox." The woman crows, her voice raspy and forced, "I am Madam Fitzroy."

You raise your brow and move to rise from your chair.

"Do not move! You must hear what I have to say." She waves her hands around the crystal ball and a small white portal opens inside of the sphere. Your eyes widen, it looks like the portal from before, but with a different image.

"Ahhh yes...I am seeing it...I see...two beings, a man and a woman, they are close in more ways than one, they are both so lovely. Ah yes? What is this?"

You focus your gaze into the crystal, trying to look through the portal, but the light seems to grow brighter and blinds you temporarily.

"THERE!" The "psychic" shrieks, "She loves him. Yes, this she does. And he...he loves her too. There's a room, a nice room. He's smiling, he says something and she smiles too."

Your eyes widen and one hand grabs your side and feel a phantom stabbing pain, you grit your teeth and hiss.

"But...what is this? There's an alley, an--"

"NO!" You cry in agony and thrash your arms across the table, sending the crystal ball across the room and shattering on the floor, the white light fades instantly. A second passes before you realize what you have done. You bring your hands up to your mouth and exhale sharply.

"I am so sorry ma'am..." You mumble, angered by your sudden outburst. You jump from your seat and back out of the tent. You trip on your skirt and nearly fall out onto the boardwalk, that is, when someone catches you.

"Whoop, can't have you taking a tumble in such a nice dress now can we?" Robert carefully pushes you back to your feet.

"Poor dear is scared." Rosalind wrapped an arm around yours and her brother took care of your other arm.

You stammered and tossed your head between the two twins who were sharing a look of pity at you as they lead you down the board walk. Guests laughed and shrieked at the side shows, women giggled like school girls at the men who were testing out their strength to show off, your head just kept spinning at the sights and sounds. The lights seemed to glow brighter and everything seemed to be getting louder as you came down from your panic attack.

"YOU SET THAT UP!" You growl as everything around you settles down.

"Shush. Don't make a scene. Last one that did that ended up nearly killing half this city." Rosalind scolded. You look up at her to see if she's joking, but her expression is as serious as ever.

"Besides, your next role is coming up. We had to prepare you somehow." Robert seems to laugh.

"I think we should have told her."

"Would she have had such a reaction then? Would she even believe us?"

"I suppose not." The female Lutece huffs and unlinks her arm.

A few feet ahead of you, you see Booker waiting in line to gain entrance into a large illuminated tent. The Lutece twins practically drag you next to him before vanishing off into thin air.

Booker looks down at you and smirks his usual grin, he appears a little more upbeat than normal, perhaps Columbia was starting to do some good for him. Upon closer inspection you notice a smudge of crimson lipstick on his collar and the light scent of floral perfume mingling with his strong musky cologne. A slight irritation burns inside of your chest and you avert your gaze.

"I was wondering where you ran off to." He comments.

"I could say the same about you." You grumble and twist your fingers together. Booker chuckles and tries to wipe away the makeup smudge.

A cheer uproars from the crowd as the tent glows brighter, a fanfare plays and a tall man in a top hat strolls out of the structure.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is with my greatest pride and pleasure to say that the Cirque de la Utopia is open!"

The cheers grow louder as the guests bustle their way into the tent. As you draw closer and closer to the tent, a wave of unease washes over you. Your hands begin to shake and before you know it, you and Booker are at the front of the line. The man in the top hat greets you.

His appearance is that of a hard-working man. He is slightly stout and stocky, his moustache was waxed finely, and his eyes were dark and full of secrets.

"Jeremiah Fink..." Booker growls lowly. The man in the top hat tips his brim and flashes a smile.

“The one and only” He laughs, “Go on in! Have fun.” Fink nudges you forward into the big top; you feel his eyes burrowing in the back of your skull.

* * *

 

“So…You know that man?” You ask after finding a seat in the stands.

“More or less…” Booker looks away, not wanting to pursue further conversation.

“ _But…According to the twins…Booker never existed in this time…How would he know that man?_ ” You ponder. The tent begins to darken and the ambient chatter softens.

A spotlight shines in the center of the ring. Jeremiah Fink stands in the light and waves a hand.

“Good evening everybody.” He announces, “I hope you’re all well. As you all know, at the end of the week we’ll be having a grand celebration for the tenth anniversary of Columbia!” The crowd cheers and hollers in excitement, “And that means our Cirque de la Utopia will be putting on an extra special shows all this week. Each one will be a chapter in our glorious story of Utopia and the climactic finale on Saturday! I hope you all enjoy!”

The ring falls dark once more. A soft murmur rises from the stands as fog starts to float across the ground. Four figures stand in the center ring and slowly disperse. The lights begin to brighten to reveal two couples dressed in rags. The couples tumble about, their faces twisted in agony. More actors join the dance, their moves are rather violent though as they seem to attack the couples. Drums bang and cymbals crash as the couples fight off the attackers. The main four huddle in a circle and hold out a miniature replica of Columbia. Coloured light fills the room and fog floods the ring as the set changes.

The two pairs are now in fancy outfits and stand in front of a gate with the name “Columbia” engraved across it. The gate opens and the group walks inside and the lights fade one last time.

It is silent for a moment, and then a thunderous applause erupts. Fink steps out into a spotlight.

“Thank you! Now, enjoy yourselves tonight.” He motions to the other end of the tent and the guests all dash out, excited for a night of excitement.

* * *

 

“Well…that was…odd.” You comment keeping your arm linked around Booker’s in fear that the Lutece’s might try and drag you off again, luckily the ex-investigator doesn’t seem to mind all that much.

“Jeremiah Fink…” He mumbles again, “What? Oh, yeah.” He snaps back to reality.

This new section of the boardwalk is brighter and louder as the lights draw in guest like moths. Men flock to the starting burlesque show and you roll your eyes. Booker starts to lead the two of you toward the building. You groan loudly, and let go of his arm.

“You can…go on without me.” You suggest and step back.

"A'ya! Get outta 'ere!" A gruff man throws someone from the theatre , several other gather around as a fight breaks out.

"Or...I can save the show for another night." Booker scratches the back of his head and quickly strolls away from the scene. A part of you is relived.

You both continue your little venture down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds. Your mind wanders around as you begin to recall the events from earlier.

" _He isn't all that bad._ " You look up at the private investigator, he has a soft smile across his lips and a child-like glimmer in his hazel-green eyes, " _No, not bad at all. A little rough around the edges, but that's fine."_ Booker looks down at you. You shoot your gaze away and clear your throat.

"A casino..." You mention and point to the illuminated sign. A sensation stirs in your chest and your eyes widen. " _One night can't hurt_ " You convince yourself.

* * *

 

A wild laugh escapes your lips as you pull back your chips from the pot, the surrounding men groan and leave the table. The dealer strides up next to you and holds out a wad of cash, you happily take the money and tuck it away in your purse before standing up and waltzing around the casino. It feels so great to gamble again, the disappointed looks of all the others as they toss away their earnings, the clatter of chips as you raise the pot higher and higher, the fluttering of the cards as they're passed out, and the sound of stunned silence as you win again.

You spot guests trying their luck over at the slots, you always hated those machines, they were programmed for you to lose. An amused smirk grew across your lips as you notice one man hit the jackpot. His face lights up as coins pour from the machine. You take note of his face and features, then at the people around him. He's not alone and he's not weak by the looks of it. Several other men around him look defensively at the crowd as he collects his winnings. You assume he's going to hit the card tables soon after.

" _...I need to be careful._ " You remind yourself and look over to the observation deck for the races. There you see Booker hunched over the rail with a betting stub crushed in his hand. You saunter over to him and tap his shoulder. The gambler sighs and raises his head to look at you.

"Just a bad race." He says to you, sounding like he's trying to convince himself that fact.

"Of course it was." You coo, and place a hand on his arm, "Look, how about you take a break from the horses and head over to the tables, better luck there." Booker just nods and tears up his slip of paper.

You lead him to the table where you can see the slot machine winner is playing poker just like you had predicted.

"Booker, I need you to play guard for me. No questions, just do it alright?" You order and harden your (e/c) gaze into his hazel-green irises.

Your companion looks over at the same table then at you and nods. You approach the table and smile with a giggle.

"Evening gentlemen~" You nearly squeak, "Mind if I play a round or two?" A few of the men at the table must have recognized you from before since they almost immediately get up and leave. You mentally sigh, hoping that the others don't catch on. Luckily they don't.

You make sure your first few rounds are losses and have enough rookie mistakes to convince that you had never really played poker in your life, and after those rounds the other men left--probably fed up with dealing with you--leaving you and the man who won the slots.

"Are you sure you want to keep playing? It'd be a shame for such a nice young lady like yourself to go home empty handed." He remarks with a gross laugh, his "henchmen" laugh as well.

"Just one more game," You fake a yawn, "I gotta try and win once."

The man gives you a smug grin that reads "too easy". Your face falls into a stone cold stare at the dealer as he shuffles the cards. You close your eyes and smile, listening to the cards flutter across the green velvet and in front of you. You pick up the cards with no expression and begin throwing chips in the pot. 10....20....50....100....and eventually $500 before the man reveals his hand. A soft laugh huffs past your lips, he holds up a straight flush. You force yourself to frown and he smiles.

"Sorry miss, this game is reserved for winners." He laughs.

"I know." You flip your cards to reveal the highest hand, a royal flush. The man smashes his hands on the table sending chips flying. You jump out of your seat and run past the dealer, grabbing your reward. Booker follows after you out of the casino.

* * *

 

The two of you stop a few hundred feet away from the building and pant in exhaustion.

"What the hell was that?!" Booker coughs.

"Cheatin' that's what." An angered voice growls, the man from the slots and his flunkies surround the two of you. Your eyes widen as they back you both into an alley.

"Shit..." Booker curses and reaches inside his jacket and pulls out his pistol. The other men pull out their weapons as well. A passerby shrieks for the police and runs off, a shot fires and the battle begins.

The majority of the others have clubs and knuckle-blades, but the leader has a revolver. Booker charges two of the men and with amazing strength, knocks them back. You step a few feet back and trip over a large object. Two large objects in fact, two large boxes, _with a note_.

Please. Try and at least _be_ prepared. -Lutece

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I put WAY too much in here.  
> And it was going to be longer.  
> But that would have probably totaled to like...  
> 5000 words.  
> How did you like it? Things are getting interesting.  
> Very interesting.  
> Oh and if you're wondering about Fink...You'll see...  
> Comment Rate Review.   
> (That means you too Ghost Readers)


	5. News and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Booker are Bona Fide Badasses  
> and Booker gets a history lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, im actually ahead of schedule this time!  
> I hope you all enjoy!

You quickly open the wooden cases to find the familiar Sky-Hooks from before. You slide the newer looking one on your arm and adjust the strap so that it's snug against your skin. You glance over at Booker who now has the slot-winner's arm pinned behind his back as he applies more pressure, earning a sickly crack as his shoulder is dislocated. The man drops his revolver and the chamber pops open, leaving a mess of bullets on the ground.

Booker hops back and kicks the man in the chest. You take this opportunity to dash to your companion and hold out the grappling contraption. The private investigator quickly equips the weapon and draws his own pistol.

"YOU HAVE A GUN?!" You shriek and kick up your leg, your pointed shoes digging into the underside of one of the attacker's jaw. The injured man flailed and knocked the pistol from Booker's grasp.

"Had a gun." He corrects and swings his Sky-Hook across the chest of a man with a knife. Blood and entrails splatter around the alley, ruining your dress entirely. You huff angrily and blow a stray strand from your hair.

"Blood doesn't come out of fabric!" You snarl and tear the skirt of your beautiful dress up far enough to reach your knives. One of the men advances towards you, and you make sure he regrets that decision by flicking one of your knives deep into his eye socket before impaling the hooks on your non-dominant hand into his throat. You pluck the knife from his eye and tuck it between your fingers, along with the three other knives.

"Okay...Two down...four to go." Booker exhales as he kicks another man in the side, sending him staggering your way. You swing your right leg around and feel your right side twinge and tighten, throwing you off balance and into the clutches of an especially beefy attacker. A vision passes in your mind and you stiffen up.

The man restraining you brings his knife to your side and you can almost feel the smile on his face, he must have seen you falter.

"Off her!" Booker demands then fires his pistol between your captor's eyes. The man instantly drops you and falls to the ground. You stumble to the ex-Pinkerton's side and pant in panic, "C'mon, you'll be fine." He encourages and continues to skillfully finish off all but one of the men.

You regain your composure and sigh. A low groan catches your attention. The last man rises from unconsciousness and stares at the both of you. Booker raises his gun but you push the barrel down as if to say "I have this." Your companion courteously steps back and you smile. You have to regain some shred of dignity.

In one fluid movement, you arc your dominant arm and unleash the four aerodynamic blades into the attacker's chest. He howls in pain and stumbles back. You rush forth with your Sky-Hook in front, lodging in his skull, then your slide your arm from the device; the man falls to his knees. After a moment of preparation, you swing your leg straight up then down, kicking the Sky-Hook out and onto the ground, leaving a fountain of arterial blood spraying in the air.

The only thing Booker could do was stand there with his jaw agape and his eyes wide. You collect your melee arsenal and readjust your Sky-Hook.

"Holy shit..." He exhales.

"I saw it this way officer!" A feminine voice draws closer, along with the sound of an entire police force.

"Well...Time to go." Booker grabs your hand and leads the both of you to the Sky-Rail and away from the crime scene.

* * *

 

"Alright (name) you have some serious explaining to do." Booker scolds from the washroom, being the one on the worse end of the damage from the night's events.

"I uh...Uh..." You stammer as you remove your outer wear, down to just your corset and under dress. You feel a hot sticky sensation across your upper back that begins to dribble down your spine as soon as you unlace your corset, another stinging sensation is felt right above your tailbone,"Shit."

Your companion exits the washroom, now changed into some pajamas, the top few buttons un-done on the shirt on account that the top part was a smidge to small for his broad shoulders, "What? Did you say something?"

You couldn't help but stare, a hot blush spreads across your face and you turn and face the wall.

"(name)...You're bleeding pretty bad..." He mumbles.

" _SHIT. SHIT. SHIT."_ You curse mentally.

You hear the first aid kit unzip and you wince.

"No no...I'm fine Booker...I'm AUGH! OH YOU SONOFA--" You hiss through your teeth.

"Down girl, it's just some alcohol." Booker says calmly as he dabs gauze over the wound, "Hm...I see another tear a little lower...You might need to..." His voice hitches as he coughs, "Well..."

"I...No...No that's indecent. No." A few drops of blood hit the floor, "...Fine." You pull up your under dress to reveal another angry red laceration, looks like the alley brawl left you with your share of injuries. Your companion applies a whiskey soaked pad to the wound and you nearly cry in agony as the cut sends waves of pain through your nerves.

"There...was that so...What's this? Ink?" Booker rests a hand over a large scar on the right side of your waist. You jolt at his touch and spin around, but his hand lingers a few seconds longer than you would have liked.

"So what if it is?" You sneer.

"Alright (name). Poker witch from hell. Frisky fighter. Drawn-on dame. What the hell is going on? I demand an explanation. I think that's reason enough."

You take a seat at the coffee table and motion for Booker to join you. You knead your fingers together and exhale.

"Well..." You begin to relay the story.

* * *

 

You never really wanted to start gambling, but you seemed to have the natural talent for it. Able to hide your expression and scare others into submission. Every Saturday you would make your way into the casino and play round after round of poker until you had either won it all, or lost it all. But this small hobby soon grew into an obsession. You almost lived at the casino. Some of your remaining friends would beg you to get out and find a better hobby, find a suitor, anyone that could keep you from the chips and cards. But it was no use.

"The only love in my life is the dealer" you would reply.

Soon after, your friends left you. Your family disowned you. You were completely alone, and beginning to drown in debt. So, you did what so many addicts did before you and took out a loan, betting it away in an hour. But unlike others, you won it back, two times over. This rush was enough to keep you gambling for the next few years.

And then, you met _him_.

He was like no other man you had met. He held such an air of confidence, like he ruled the world, and you wanted to take that throne. So, you put on the usual act. Come to the table, lose a round or two, then take him for all he's worth. But, something went terribly wrong. You kept winning. He caught you in your act. You quickly left the table.

"Ah...Evening Ma'am." His voice was smooth like caramel as he snaked a hand around your waist, "I uh...noticed your skills. I was wondering if you would...work...for me...I can't hit every casino it town ya know?"

"And what if I don't?" You retorted. The man brought a pistol to your jaw.

"Oh...You must~"

Years passed, and you soon realized that you were better off dead. The man you were forced to work for was a big time loan shark. And he had adversaries all around the city, hell, the state probably. And the longer your worked for him, the harder and harder if was to try and leave. He taught you everything you knew about fighting, and reading faces. And eventually you had fallen for his charms. You became another victim. You had spent so many nights with him, screaming his name into the early morning hours. But he grew tired of you. You were nothing but something to pass the time. So one day you decided to take your business elsewhere.

Months after you left, you had created your own little ring of con artists that claimed to be your "friends", but then your past decided to catch up. You had recently loaned out a good $1,000 to a man with a losing streak like none other. And when you went to collect the payment. There he was. That man with the smooth voice.

"Evening (name)." He didn't sound too happy to be there.

"Oh, you _do_ remember me." You sneered.

The next you knew a knife was carving into your side, and if it weren't for the police, it would have killed you.

* * *

 

"And after I got out of the hospital, I moved, became someone who saves lives instead of ruins them, and left a permanent reminder to never...'Get in over my head'." You lift your dress to reveal the palm-sized scar on your side, with the words 'Stay out of the water' beautifully written in calligraphy over the lighter patch of skin.

"Wow...Uh...Sheesh..." Booker nervously rubs his neck.

"Yeah."

There is an awkward silence between you both.

"I'm...going to...Change." You collect your sleepwear and head into the washroom to change.

* * *

 

It couldn't have been later than...Booker looks over to the clock on the wall, one in the morning. The ex-Pinkerton lay awake in his bed and sighed. It was only the first day in Columbia and he was already in enough trouble like last time. Another sigh escapes his lips and he swipes a hand over his face. Booker rises from his bed and stumbles out into the main room, grabbing his carton of cigarettes and his lighter. He opens the door to the balcony and leans over the railing, staring out into the dim lights of the flying city, the full moon washing the buildings in a cool light. The gambler lights his cigarette and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply and smoothly breathes out the bitter smoke into the night air.

"Grand night for a storm." Robert chimes in a whisper as he and his sister take their seats at the small table on the balcony.

"Oh. You two." Booker mumbles, not looking at the twins.

"What? Did our little turn-about girl scare you?" Rosalind coos and stares off into the sky.

" _Our_ turn-about girl? How about _my_ turn-about girl. After all, _you_ did not believe me about her." The male Lutece comments bitterly.

"Can you both just...go? I don't have time for this." The weary gambler yawns and takes another drag.

"Why? Is it because...You see yourself in her?" Both twins ask. Booker's eyes widen a fraction.

"Or perhaps. A _better_ version of yourself." The twins seem to taunt in unison.

The private investigator scoffs and flicks away the smoldering ashes at his fingertips. His thoughts recollect to the story you wove for him and he plays back every detail. You are--no _were_ \--like him. Both of you had lost something precious, dug your own graves, but unlike him, you got out. Booker slumps over farther and disposes of his cigarette.

"When two constants are introduced, the only outcome..." Robert smiles.

"Is a variable." Rosalind finishes. And with that, the time wandering twins vanish.

A low cry resounds from inside the suite, one that becomes more and more pained sounding. Booker instinctively turns on his heel and begins to investigate the large suite. The crying coming in muffled sobs from behind your door. For a few moments he debates mentally whether or not he should enter.

"N-no...no...let go..." Your breathy sobs become frantic, as if you're struggling. Booker charges into the room, to find you thrashing about on the bed, as hot tears roll down your cheeks. He steps closer to find you still asleep.

"(Name)...(name)...it's just a dream..." The gambler places his hand on your shoulder and you instantly freeze, a sensation of warmth fills you and you relax. He watches as your face untwists from its pained state and even breaths escape your slightly parted lips. Booker looks over you once more. Something about your calm expression seems so inviting. He nervously licks his lips and feels himself drawing closer.

"No...dammit what am I doing." The green-eyed man hisses and leans back, trailing his fingers down arm as he leaves. Your fingers twitch against his when they meet, as if to say "Thanks".

"Yeah..." He mutters and leaves to his own room where he collapses on the blankets and falls asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, you learn your history.  
> Beat up some jerks.  
> And get comforted by a mass murdering Pinkerton.  
> All in all, a good evening.
> 
> OH! and if you aren't already~ Go read Mothra's  
> [ Songbirds Calling While Angels are Falling](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1420876/chapters/2985694)  
> It's so fantastic. Go. GO now.
> 
> See ya later sweet potatahs  
> -Ryzi


	6. Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I stray a little from the original plot, Booker gets in over his head, and You lose your composure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop! I'm out of school~ So I should have more time to write.  
> Enjoy this chapter~

The sound of booming thunder wakes you from your deep slumber. A flash of lightning illuminates your room and you wince at the sudden brightness. You turn to the clock, it's six in the morning. A groaning yawn escapes your lips and you stretch, feeling the injuries on your back ache in defiance. You hiss in pain and fall back onto the mattress. Another crash causes you to cringe from the excruciatingly loud noise. Storms up in the sky seem a lot more violent than back on the ground.

You achingly pull yourself out of bed and stumble out of the nice bedroom, following the faint scent of coffee coming from the main room. There you spot Booker relaxing on the plush couch with a cup of coffee in his hands and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He shoots you a sideways glance then immediately looks away and pulls the cigarette away, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Morning." He greets and takes a sip of coffee. You just nod and stagger to the double doors that lead to the balcony.

"Ah, I wouldn't if I were you." Booker suggests, "Hell of a storm out there." You rest your head on the doors and yawn again, still not fully coherent.

"Glad t'see ya such a m'rnin' p'rson." You slur and push yourself away from the closed doors. The ex-Pinkerton chuckles and sets down his cup. He casually walks over to you and leads you back to the couch, pressing you to take a seat. You nearly flop over onto your side but Booker stabilizes you and hands you his coffee. Without much thought, you bring the cup to your lips and take a generous gulp of the caffeinated liquid, your (color) eyes shoot open from the sudden heat filling you and the bitter taste on your tongue.

"Bleh!" You splutter and harshly slam the cup on the table, "It's black!" You ungracefully stick out your tongue as if it was going to get rid of the acidic taste any faster.

"At least it woke you up." Booker laughs harder and extinguishes his cigarette in the ash tray. You shoot him a furious glare and huff, not too pleased with how the morning is going, "Now. About that Cirque...if Fin--"

"Hold it there DeWitt." You cut him off, "It's miserable out there, I ache all over, it's only been one day, and you want to focus on a group of carnies and a fat man with a moustache? How about this? The rain isn't letting anyone go anywhere, I think we do the same. I mean look at me. Hell, look at _you_. You look like you got trampled." You motion to the swollen bruises on his cheek and arms, "One day won't make a difference. I'll even cut you a deal. If it stops raining, we can go investigate. Happy?" You sink back into the couch with an annoyed huff and cross your arms. Booker looks at you stunned and sighs, already knowing you had made up your mind.

The ex-Investigator purses his lips and exits the suite, angrily cursing something under his breath. You lean back farther on the couch and scowl at the door.

"He's a stubborn one." You hiss and rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Couldn't have said it any better myself." Your head whips to the side to find Robert sipping tea in his own chair. You scowl and frown at the man.

"What do _you_ want?" You ask bitterly. The male Lutece's lips turn up in a slight grin and he sets his tea on the saucer in his other hand.

"Looks like you'll have to improvise this one." He smiles.

"What? Improvise? Where's the other one of you?" It's too early for you to even coherently think.

"She really hates storms."

"I would too up her--"

"But not for the reason you're thinking." The ginger cuts you off and rises to his feet, "Oh and I'd advise you put on something more... _appropriate_ for this weather. Perhaps trousers, and that Sky Hook."

You scrunch your face in slight disgust, such a crude comment from such a refined looking gentleman.

"Why I nev--"

"And you never will have to again." Robert taps a finger to his cheek and strolls to the balcony doors. He flicks the latch and the doors fly open from the strong gale. Rain pours in and fog billows and vanishes. The male Lutece waves a parting gesture and disappears into the raging storm.

You sit in silence for a moment, knowing that you'll inevitably be out in that terror of a weather pattern.

* * *

 

" _All I wanted was a vacation. That's all. A nice week away from work._ " You remind yourself mentally, " _But do I get that? No! I just had to save him. Just HAD to. Now I'm out here in this god forsaken storm in MEN'S clothes. MEN'S CLOTHES for God's sake! What is this world coming to?!_ " You take temporary refuge under an awning and look at the area around you. Off in the distance you could make out the light from the gondola to Battleship Bay where the boardwalk was, and where the Cirque would be.

Sheets of icy rain drench your clothes and you shiver violently, oh you were going to make Booker pay for having you come after him. Lightning ripples across the clouds, a few stray arcs making contact with the lightning rods on the tallest structures. You jolt away from the building and sprint towards the gondola dock, only to find the transportation to be shut down. An angry growl escapes your lips and you thrash your arms around in rage. Now how were you supposed to reach Booker? You look down at the Sky Hook on your (non-dominant) arm and then up at the Sky Rail and exhale a knowing sigh.

You take a few steps back then dash forwards and hurl your weight over the edge of the dock and feel the Hook's magnetic pull attract to the Rail and send you speeding to the sky-ocean.

Rain pelts against your skin like pebbles, leaving small stinging welts on your cheeks. But that is the least of your worries, the storm seems to reach its peak as lightning arcs around you, heating the air and leaving your hair on end. A deep fear of being electrocuted wells up inside and you pray that you'll reach safety before lightning strikes the rail.

Soon you see the hazy lights of the boardwalk and decide it's time to depart the Rail. And just in time too. As soon as your feet ungracefully skid across the soggy boards another electric arc strikes the Sky Rail above you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

"Too close..." You exhale and press on down the boardwalk.

* * *

 

You pace for another ten minutes before hearing a blood curdling scream coming from the alley a few feet ahead. All sense leaves you and your feet pick up the pace, leading you to a gruesome sight.

A large owl-like monster looms over a fallen Booker who's bleeding profusely. The creature is obviously a man-made mechanical beast, the way it creaks and groans like aged metal as it raises its bladed arm back to finish off your friend.

Without thinking you charge the owl animatronic and heave your weight against it, realizing how incredibly light the being is. From inside you hear several cogs clatter around and the mechanical creature staggers away. You raise your Sky Hook and catch it on the owl's blade, tearing it from its arm and tossing it aside. The monster groans again, its glowing eyes focusing on you.

" _Good...Get away from Booker you bastard._ " You command mentally and step back, drawing the machine towards you and out into the open. The air around you grows hot with static and you feel charges building around you. For a moment you're still as a statue as the owl thrashes its arms up. You throw yourself back and curl up on the ground as soon as the static in the air breaks and a large arc of lightning strikes the toy-like machine. Upon impact the animatronic falls to the ground in a steaming mess, no longer moving.

After the initial shock you rise up and run to Booker who is now struggling to stay awake and out of hemorrhagic shock.

"Shit...Shit..." You swear and un-tuck the oversized shirt from your trousers and tear off the excess fabric. You then proceed to tightly wrap each wound as best as you can.

"Booker? Booker! You gotta stay with me okay?!" You demand frantically and pull his arms over your shoulders.

With some quick thinking, you wriggle your arms through the harnesses of his shoulder gun holster and tear the lower hem of your shirt, tying it around both your waists, and then raise your Sky Hook up to the Rail, toggling on the magnetism and sending both of you on your ways to the hotel. As you speed along the Rail, you keep praying for your companion to be safe.

A small stationary hook comes into view, its green light like a beacon of safety. With a sharp inhale you launch to the hook then dismount onto your balcony where you fall into the room and curse a string of swears loud enough to probably wake up the entire floor. But there's no time to think about management knocking down your door and demanding an explanation as to why you profanely woke up the entire fifth floor. Oh no, you have a bigger problem at stake.

* * *

 

"This is getting old Booker." You hiss and untie the harnesses, carefully lowering the bleeding man to the floor. You leap up and grab every cushion, blanket, towel and pillow you can find in the suite and surround him in a downy nest of plush warmth. Quickly you dig through your suitcase and find the first aid kit you carry everywhere. You re-evaluate the damage, noticing several lacerations in need of stitches. His breaths become shallow and he shudders as his skin grows slightly colder. Choking back a sob you pull a needle from your bag and thread it. With trembling fingers you begin to suture the deep slashes, noting the agonizing look on Booker's face.

"It'll be fine...I promise...Hold on..." You whimper, desperation lacing your voice.

After stitching every cut you move to the shallower abrasions and within moments you've rewrapped Booker's wounds and are perched by his side, rechecking his vitals every minute or so. Nothing seems to be changing though. Tension builds in your stomach and you feel stray tears roll down your cheeks. You cover the ex-Pinkerton in the blankets and exhale shakily.

"Ow..." Booker groans and slowly opens his eyes.

A mix of emotions run through you and you place a hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth returning to him. A smile cracks your worried visage before you swing a palm across his face with a loud ' _SMACK!'_

"What the hell was that for?!" He crows and brings a hand to his stinging cheek.

"For being reckless! Is this how you handle things? Throwing yourself into danger? You'll get killed! This is the second time I've saved you Booker DeWitt!" Your words spill at a mile a minute as well do your tears.

Then, something you would never expect in a million years happens.

With all his strength, Booker sits up and pulls you into a tight embrace. For a moment, everything seems to stop.

"Thank you." He exhales. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his shoulder, losing all composure, and losing the strange sense of fear you had developed.

But, what was there to fear?

Death? Loneliness?

Yes, that one had to be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So to be honest. I was nervous about this chapter.  
> But, I needed to open up the story a little more, and what better way to do that than almost kill Booker?  
> Actually, this chapter was supposed to be really fluffy. But well...  
> So I hope you really enjoyed this though!  
> Rate and review!


	7. Caramel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you try to keep Booker in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I had a really really bad week or two.  
> So here's a life update as to why I haven't updated.  
> As you all may or may not know, I've now graduated High school.
> 
> Well, I thought I would have a lot of free time.  
> But as life would have it, I now work two jobs.  
> I mean yay, money. But for the first week of balancing the two, I was severely anxious and losing all motivation.  
> (like I almost dropped this story and wanted to give up)  
> But I'm back and feeling a lot better.  
> I'll try to update faster, but with my new schedule, I'm not sure how much time I'll have.  
> But thank you all for being so awesome!
> 
> And shout out to Nyxcatti for starting up her own Booker x Reader.  
> Go read her story "Making Memories Where None Exist"  
> It's so amazing!

 

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you had woken up again to the sound of slight snoring right in your ear. You slowly open your eyes with a groan and wipe the sleep away from them once again. You look around slowly as you regain your vision. A loud snort catches your attention and you jolt, a pair of arms tighten around you. You twist your neck to look up and see Booker sleeping fitfully with you nestled in his arms like some sort of security blanket.

You begin to mentally debate whether or not to wake him up or just stay there and enjoy the warm feeling racing through your veins. It had been so long since you had felt this way. Your breath hitches and you resettle your head on his chest . A small smile graces your lips as you listen to his healthy and stable heartbeat.

" _What are you doing (name)?_ " You mentally slap yourself " _You aren't even in a relationship with this man. Hell, you've only known him for two days. Don't be so indecent!_ "

The body under you shuffles and sits up, still holding you in his arms. You freeze and stare wide-eyed at the groggy Booker, whom is still holding you with one arm as he uses the other one to swipe over his face. His forest-green gaze lowers to your (color) one and he blinks a few times.

Your face heats up and you attempt to stammer out a sentence, but only end up making a further fool of yourself.

"Ah, sorry about that." Booker mumbles and lifts his arm off you and allows you to remove yourself from his person. However you just awkwardly squirm away and rise to your feet.

"Are those _my_ clothes?" He asks and squints as he rubs out a knot in his neck.

You nod and pick at the ragged shirt that hangs damply from your frame. The ex-Pinkerton laughs hard and holds his stomach in slight discomfort from the stitches. Your embarrassed expression quickly turns to one of fury and you weakly kick Booker's leg.

"Don't laugh at the lady who just saved your life again!" You huff and kick him again.

"Ah-hah. Ahh, sorry 'bout that. It's just..." He snickers and brings a hand to his mouth, you stare daggers at him, "never mind."

A moment of mildly aggravated silence passes before you speak up, "Look, now that you're really injured, I would tell you--as a nurse--that you shouldn't even be moving."

"Yes yes, as a _nurse_. But what about as someone else?" Rosalind's voice calls from behind, you spin around with a yelp and furrow your brows.

"Yes, but who are you telling him as?" Robert seems to mock, "After all, you haven't a lot of time."

"Another role will require both of you to play your parts _alive_ and well."

You roll your eyes and look back at Booker, "But as your fri-- _partner,_ I admit this is growing more and more suspicious, so you'll need to be on your feet soon." You can almost feel the bemused looks on their faces as they smile smugly and glance at each other.

The ex-investigator waves a hand and shakily rises to his feet with a long pained groan. He stretches out his arms and hisses in pain.

"I say we investigate the hotel until the rain passes..." Booker grumbles.

"Alright." You look behind you to see the twins gone again.

"(name)?"

You hum softly and look at your companion.

"I need my clothes back."

"...right."

* * *

 

The first place you and Booker "investigate" is the restaurant that's connected to the hotel. Sitting at the oversized booth, you carefully cut up the French toast on your plate and bring a piece to your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you track the passing patrons and check for any suspicious activity.

"Well...nothing seems to be out of place by the bar." Booker sits across from you and prods at his omelet ; cutting it apart with his fork.

"Of course, it's only ten." You take a sip of your tea.

"You can't be too sure with men like Fink."

"What is so wrong with him anyways?" You lean closer to him over the table.

" 'es a snake in the grass. Mind your voices here." A new voice hisses and sits next to you. You look over to see a dark-skinned woman with braided hair under a large sun hat that obscures most of her face. The majority of her skin is covered in clothing and she tilts her head towards you.

You recognize her dark eyes to be the ones of Madam Fitzroy from your first night on the boardwalk.

Booker tenses up and nearly drops his fork.

"I can't stay long...but..." The dark-eyed woman pulls out a small note from inside her jacket and slides it to you, "Find the boiler room and show the man there this card. Come by at three." And with that, Daisy shuffled out of the seat and scurries from the premise. You blink confused and look at the card. It's blood red with the word 'VOX' scrawled out in black ink.

Your partner huffs and brings his fork back to his lips. You just cock your head and shrug, not wanting to pursue the topic on Booker's relation to all the strangers you were encountering.

* * *

 

After finishing your breakfast--and after a small debate on who gets to pay--you and Booker continue your minor investigation of the Monument Hotel and begin taking note of landmarks in the event something should happen while the two of you are searching. As the two of you walk, you make seemingly idle chit-chat to lower any suspicions the other guests may have.

"So...You never told me how you know Fink, and what's so wrong with him?" You inquire.

"Ah...Well let's just say, where I was from, he was trouble." Booker looks you in the eye, his own reflecting that Fink was just more than trouble. You nod slightly in understanding then turn your attention to large glass wall next to you that allows guests to view the recreation room.

You stop for a moment to watch as some guests toss around a ball, two men boxing for sport (and to show off in front of the ladies), and children playing tag. A smile crosses your lips and you keep watching everyone enjoy themselves. Your gaze shifts to the men boxing and watch as one delivers a harsh blow to the other's stomach . The stronger man flexes his arms and smirks at one of the women, but she just looks over at the downed man. The victor steps off the mat and something in his face sets an alarm off in your mind.

Without thinking, you casually walk into the room, leaving Booker behind. You strut up behind the small group of women who are now fawning over the stronger boxer to watch what could unfold.

"--Ay, ay, he's just outta breath dearie, don't be such'cha worrier over the little things." The man drapes his arm over the uncomfortable woman. His voice almost sounds like a forced accent to you.

"...it's just...did you have to hit him so hard?" The woman mumbles and looks away.

"Ay he got a lil' in over 'is 'ead. Now, don't worry."

The other boxer slowly got up and staggered around then away.

"See? Fine." By now the other ladies had left to do other things. The nervous woman nodded meekly and anxiously twiddled her fingers, "What? Still nervous? I got a solution just for that." the man strokes her cheek and turns her face to his.

The woman's face grows bright red and her eyes grow wide in fear as she tries to scoot away, but the man grabs her arm and keeps her by him. You feel the need to intervene.

"Excuse me." You cough, moving up to the pair, "Would you mind letting my friend go?"

The man looks at you, his amber-like eyes sparking something under your skin. He looks so calm and collected that he's obviously hiding something behind his face. He raises a brow, as if expecting you to speak further. But when you try, you find no words to say, like he had taken them with a look.

"Ah, (name) there you are." Booker calls warmly from behind and snakes a hand around your waist, you do your best to not jump out of your skin at the sudden contact, "Sorry about that sir, she tends to get her nose in other people's business."

"Yes, well, keep 'er on a leash. "The way he spoke sent a shiver through your veins, but you couldn't put a finger on it. Your companion's hand tensed in anger. The woman looks at you both with a desperate gaze that reads "Help".

"Excuse you?" Booker snorts and tightens his jaw.

"Look, all's I'm sayin' is y'shouldn't let a woman get so outta hand."

Both you and Booker are furious. The woman frantically looks around with her fearful eyes as the man tugs her closer to his side forcefully. Out of sheer panic she stomps her heel against his foot, causing him to let go, and her to stumble away a little. The man swings his arm at the brave woman, about to striker her hard, when you bring your own hand down on his wrist. He grunts and grabs you by the collar with one hand and you grab his wrist again. The amber-eyed man cracks a smirk.

"Oy! Get 'way from me y'whore!" He screams and jerks you back, "Don't 'cha know t'leave a married man alone?!" You stumble back and look around at the scene being caused. Booker places a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him. A deep rage burns behind his normally stoic eyes. He shrugs off his coat and holster in your arms and rolls up his sleeves.

"B-Booker, don't make a scene." You whisper, bunching up the fabric in your hands, but the ex-Pinkerton ignores you and grabs the malicious man by the shoulder and swings him around.

"What gives you the right to insult my _wife_ like that? Better yet, insult any woman like that?"

Your face heats up, " _Did he just refer to me as his WIFE?_ "

"Ahah! Women are s'posed to be 'bedient . Not loose and rowdy." The man crosses his arms, "Was just remindin' her of 'er place." He laughs, "Am I right?" Some other men call out in agreement.

You stare daggers at the man then look at Booker who looks ready to explode.

In a flash, Booker's fist connects to the man's nose, earning a satisfying crunch. The amber-eyed man staggers back and the crowd gasps, drops of blood hit the floor.

"Y'bastard!" He howls and throws his arms in a haymaker attempt which Booker blocks and swings his own fist into his opponent's solar plexus.

While Booker occupies himself with putting the amber-eyed man in his own place, you scurry over to the other woman.

"Are you alright?" You ask.

"Y-Yes...I'm fine...Are you?" She replies, you nod, "Good... he must have found out..." The woman tucks away a bright red handkerchief into her purse.

"Found out what?" You look at her purse for a moment then pull the card Daisy had presented you earlier. The woman looks at the card and then at you.

"I'm with the Vox Populi. I see Daisy invited you to come by."

"Uhm...Yes..."

"Right, well I ought to be going. You and your husband are very brave, we need people like you." And with that, the woman quickly shuffles out of the recreation room. You look over to see a ring of people surrounding the new boxing match. You push your way through the crowd, praying that your partner isn't over exerting himself.

* * *

 

You watch as Booker receives a heavy fist to the jaw, then one to the shoulder where you remember stitching him. The ex-Pinkerton instantly drops to a knee and grabs his injured shoulder. You cringe and avert your gaze to his attacker who's now cocked back his foot and about to swing it forward. You try to scream, but find all sound trapped inside as the man thrusts his foot under your partner's ribs and into another set of stitches, sending Booker to the floor.

The crowd cheers for the amber-eyed man as he flaunts around, taking in all the glory.

"Ay yeah! That's right! 'e got what 'e d'served!"

The crowd disperses a few moments later, leaving you alone with the man and a downed Booker. You kneel next to your companion and help him sit back up.

"You know, for a girl who hates swimming, you're in some pretty deep waters." The amber-eyed man hisses in a voice so smooth. You freeze as he leaves the room. Booker tries to draw your attention, but you're too focused on that last comment. The ex-investigator looks into your fearful (color) eyes as you mouth one phrase, over and over again.

"A voice...like... _caramel._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AhahA.  
> So, I might have or have not used those two weeks to also stress over my plot.  
> I re-wrote it. Like. 50 times.  
> But once again, you are all so awesome.  
> Thanks for stickin with this story and I hope you continue to enjoy.  
> (new game, take a shot for how many times I cause Booker pain)
> 
> See ya later sweet potaters~


	8. Surprise Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're really going to regret getting inolved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter is...  
> not my best.  
> But. No matter how I went about it.  
> It just...  
> BUT.  
> uh...  
> I had something to say.

Blood. Blood everywhere. On your dress, on your hands, in your hair, and in your mouth. Your skin goes cold as you trudge forward in mental darkness. Fear drives you to move, as if stopping was no longer an option. Disembodied murmurs are nearly drowned out by the white noise in your mind. You hold your side as a painful stabbing sensation radiates from the spot. The blood flows faster from your wounds and you keep trudging forward.

“ _Drown love, drown._ ” His voice urges you on and you shuffle faster.

You look back at the bloody trail you’ve left, cards and cash flutter in the wind. Hands begin to grab at your dress, then at your skin. They push you through the darkness towards a figure. The figure extends its arms out to you and you reach out to grab it.

Once in its grasp, the figure pulls you into an embrace, and for a moment you feel fine. The scent of musky cologne and alcohol almost comforts you. You look up into a set of amber eyes and your heart sinks. Suddenly, his image becomes clear.

Sharply angled features, slicked black ivory hair, wiry appendages that hold their own, and skin so pale you're surprised you didn't recognize him sooner.

“You can’t escape sinking.” His head cocks to the side and he smiles crookedly.

You suddenly collapse at the new stinging pain in your scarred side. You gasp in agony as the old wound reopens and you cry out.

“HELP!” You shriek. A muffled scream calls out in the distance. An icy chill surrounds your quaking body as bloodied tears drip to the ground.

Then, it all stops.

* * *

 

“It’s okay, that doesn’t matter.” The voice echoes in the darkness and you viciously grab into nothingness, hoping to find something to hold.  You clutch a fistful of damp fabric and hold on for dear life. That same scent of cologne and alcohol fills your nose and you began building features to details. Clear green eyes, tousled brown hair, suntanned skin…

You press your face into the fabric and open your eyes. It’s just a blanket. You lift your face from the damp cloth and see that you’re back in the hotel room. A hand holds out to you a tea cup.

"Definitely the perfect actress." Robert coos and you take the cup. You look over yourself, no blood, no bruises.

"Such a performance." Rosalind adds at a distance.

You stare with glazed eyes into the distance for a few moments before snapping back into reality.

"Wait where's Booker?" You exhale.

The twins smirk at each other. The lock on the door jiggles and you tense. The knob turns a few times before an exhausted looking Booker stumbles in the door. You look at the clock on the wall, it's already nine in the evening! The ex-Pinkerton staggers farther into the main room, and swipes a hand over his face trying to wipe away the exhaustion.

"She's still as wily as ever that Fitzroy." He mumbles and rubs a finger under his nose, a few drops of blood fall to the floor. You clench your eyes shut then blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings once more, "You're up. Feeling better?" Your companion steps closer and leans against the arm of the couch.

"I....uh....you went to see those 'Vox'?" It's the only question you can coherently think of.

"Well, yeah. Interesting group." He stretches his arms out.

"So, what's our plan of attack?"

"Fitzroy says nothing's gonna happen until the show tonight, 'cause of what happened today."

"Oh." You tuck your legs up against your chest and readjust the blanket.

"She also said that she would like to meet you before we go and do anything else."

You stared out into the emptiness of the room and clenched your eyes shut, forcing your previous nightmare into the recesses of your mind, and forcing a small smile on your face. With aching legs, you stood back up and stretched out your muscles, mentally preparing for the rest of the day.

"Let's...Let's get moving then." You declared, "Where do we go?"

Booker pushes himself off the arm and adjusts his vest, "I'll show ya." he wanders over to the door of the suite. You pat down your skirt and follow suit.

* * *

 

After the events in the recreation room, you feel as if everyone is watching now. Every step sounds louder and every face looks like a mask. Passing bits of idle chatter set you on edge. Unconsciously you lean closer to your partner and rest a hand on his arm.

You stare into the distance as you attempt to recollect yourself.

" _Calm...C-calm down (name). It's...It's just a coincidence. I mean, yeah, there's...there's no way he...pfft, yeah."_

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't realize the several uncomfortable chuckles that escape your lips causing Booker to raise a brow in confusion.

"(Name)?" He taps your shoulder and you jolt.

"Y-yes?"

"You alright? You're a...a little off."

You press your lips tightly into a line and exhale heavily, damn this man is too observant.

"Yes, fine." You lie then look over at a peculiar employee standing by a maintenance door. The employee tips his hat to the two of you and Booker flicks up the red card. The employee casually opens the door and your companion hastily ushers you inside. The door shuts softly behind you and a flickering light appears in the distance. Echoing chatter resounds off the pipes as you wander towards the light.

The name "Daisy" passes in the echoes a few times. Your legs suddenly grow heavier as a sinking regret settles in your stomach. The passage continues for a few minutes before the chatter rises to laughter and jovial cheers.

Booker knocks on the door. A lock clicks and light blinds you temporarily. The ex-Pinkerton lightly grabs your arm and leads you in.

"Daisy, I brought my..." His voice hitches "Partner"

A dark-skinned woman turns on her heel and  leans forward. Her hazel eyes scan over your form and she purses her lips in thought. She circles around you and prods at your skin, muttering  notes to herself. Your skin crawls as she tosses your skirt up and snatches a knife from its holster.

Daisy ghosts her fingers over the blade before handing it back to you with a nod.

"The Vox accept your aid." She states, "Now to catch y'all up to speed." The Vox leader motions you over to a curtain. With one fluid motion she pulls away the fabric revealing a wall covered in photos, drawings, articles, and red thread. She points to the bottom of the wall.

'COLUMBIA RESORT SHUT DOWN AFTER SAVAGE STORM' a news headline reads.

Her finger drags to the photos of four people, the word "missing" scrawled above each one.

A strand of thread leads to a drawing of Jeremiah Fink that branches out to several articles on 'COLUMBIA'S MIRACULOUS REOPENING'.

You stare at the intricate web and the photos that are all interconnected.

"Daisy...It's ten." A new voice calls. Daisy straightens up and pulls her braids from their bun and shakes her head.

"Show time." She smiles menacingly as the strands obscure all but her grin.

* * *

 

"Annnnd...we're back here again." You groan, twirling the parasol above your head as the light rain patters against the fabric. You scuffle across the damp boardwalk and notice the slight tracks from when you had skidded to a halt earlier, but you press on not caring to recall those events.

Lights from the big top draw guests closer and closer. You shift your elbow to grab Booker's attention, only to notice he's not there. Frantically you toss your head about, hoping to spot the missing man. A nervous pain sets in as you scurry faster around the boardwalk, looking for your partner. But the crowd grows denser and people begin pushing you closer and closer towards the tent.

Panic causes your limbs to tighten and freeze, allowing the sea of patrons to pull you into the large tent. You stumble over the stands and fall into a seat. You attempt to get up, but a hand pushes you back down.

"Shh" They hush and flash a small red card in your vision.

"B-b-but--"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Fink's crowd-pleasing voice hollers over the microphone, "ARE YOU READY FOR ANOTHER GRAND PERFORMANCE?!"

The audience shouts and cries out in excitement.

"I TAKE THAT AS A 'YES'. WELL HERE WE GO!" the lights dim.

Silence befalls the audience. The orchestra starts up a lively piece, actors dance around the center ring. The main four actors in the center appear to be the cause of the joy. Then the lights turn red and smoke billows in, obscuring the  performance. Cymbals and drums clash loudly, shrieks echo from within the chaos.

You hear several gasps from the audience as the smoke clears. A lone figure stands in the remains.

He raises a hand and the mess "clears" out. With a snap of the fingers the set changes to a better and brighter Columbia.

Applause roars from the crowd as the show ends.

You quickly rise from your seat and rush out, ignoring the calls from the other Vox member.

* * *

 

Not even ten feet from the big top do you freeze.

"Evening love." That damned smooth voice coos above the normal chatter. A hand snakes around your waist and your insides churn, "Didn't expect to see you here." You hear the familiar singing of a knife being unsheathed.

"Why...are...you...here?" You question breathily as your muscles tense.

"Work." He smiles and pulls you closer, "You know, I thought you would have recognized me sooner. I'm hurt, have you forgotten me?" You lift your gaze to his ivory face and his sharp features. Your heart sinks.

"How...could I forget you...you bastard." You try to sound as fearless as possible. Cold steel presses against your arm.

"Now now. No need for names." His amber eyes flicker with hatred. The blade digs into your flesh and you wince.

Heavy footfalls grab your attention, "(NAME)! Oh there you are." Booker practically tears you from the  man's grasp and wraps a protective arm around your shoulders. You can feel the rage seething from him.

"I wander off for one minute and..." Booker mockingly scolds as he moves you away from the situation, "Now, who was that man."

Chills wrack your body again. You shake your head and refuse to speak as faint memories resurface.

"(name). Who was he? Must be someone important to have you so shaken."

The dull stabbing sensation returns to your side and you bury your face in your bleeding arm.

"I thought I was safe." You choke out. You don't notice Booker as he pulls closer, "It's not supposed to go this way. I did everything I could." You begin to as overwhelming memories and thoughts take hold. 

"(name)...(name) come on."

"He'll keep hunting me down...I'm not getting out of this alive..." You gasp for air, but feel your throat tightening. Panic sets in as your mind reels through scenarios of various ways to die up here. You begin to choke as the thoughts race faster and faster, more catastrophes forming.

Darkness surrounds you again, and you're trapped in your anxiety.

"(NAME)!"Booker's frantic call snaps you back to reality. You look up into his slightly concerned gaze and hiccup another sob. The gambler motions to your right side, "He's the one who did that, isn't he?"

You grit your teeth and fight back more tears, "Travis Dempsey. That's his name." Something snaps inside as a bitter laugh passes your lips.

"He's the bastard. The reason I'm so...messed up." You wave your arms around your face and hiss angrily. By the time you've finished talking the two of you are back at the hotel and meandering to the elevator. You manage to stifle your emotions to keep the elevator operator from asking any questions.

As the small "room" rises slowly, Booker glances down at you and huffs. The doors open and you both hurry out and to the suite.

* * *

 

"This time _you're_ the one that needed saving." Booker mentions as he wraps the minor wound, "Now, what were you saying about being 'messed up'?"

You look away, "I'm 33...I don't some sappy comfort story like I'm some damn teenager." you don't mean to sound so rude, but it's late and everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

The ex-Pinkerton scoffs a laugh and pats your shoulder, "Fine. But for the record, you're no worse off than I was." He pats the bandage on your arm and leaves to his room.

" _You know. For a grouch. He's rather considerate...Ah what are you thinking (name)?!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIGHT.  
> So for the next two weeks I'll be on another HIATUS.  
> "But why Ryzi? Didn't we just wait a whole month for an update?!"  
> Yes, yes you did my sweet potatoes. But, guess who's flashdrive is corrupted and now lost all her data on this fic?  
> THATS RIGHT. THIS GIRL.  
> That and Otakon is soon and I need to finish my cosplay.  
> And Placement retakes.  
> AND COLLEGE.  
> And work.  
> So much stress.
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL.  
> -Ryzi
> 
> (please dont kill me)


	9. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heroes never rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait my sweet potatoes.  
> I was -tosses glitter around-  
> AT OTAKOOON!  
> And I met a Bioshock cosplay group.  
> And let me just tell you. Pretty much anyone who cosplays Booker.   
> Holy shit. And there was a songbird. And hwaahh.  
> BUT ENOUGH.  
> Chapter 9 is here and   
> THINGS. GET.  
> -pause for dramatic effect-  
> WEIRD.

The sound of footsteps scuffling out in the main room had you stirring to wake. A muffled conversation buzzes in your ears as you tiredly grab at the cartilage, hoping to stop the noise.  You groan and lift your arms, feeling a sudden tightness in one as gauze fell to the blankets. Right, you were injured last night. You lightly scratch at the shallow wound  and sigh.

A heavy weight rests on your shoulders and you slump forward. You swipe a hand across your eyes and sigh again, feeling the dried tracks of tears against your cheeks.

" _He's here too..._ " You think, " _Just when I thought I was safe_."

With aching legs you swing yourself to the edge of the mattress and groan again. You instantly slump over and huff. Getting up this morning feels harder than it should.

Someone knocks at your door.

"(name)?" Booker.

You attempt to answer but can only vocalize a soft grumble.

"I'm heading out...I uh...Should be back in an hour."

You grumble  out an, "alright" and tuck your legs against your chest, heaving a sigh. You listen as your partner leaves the suite and fall back into the blankets. The exhaustion from the night before begins to catch up once more.

For the entire night's rest you were supposed to get, was filled with nightmares and panic. You hardly slept a wink.  With a deep sigh you roll yourself up in the blankets and shut your eyes, hoping to shut out reality.

But of course not. You can't just wish away the bad things. You can't escape with just a flick of the wrist.

" _But oh how nice that'd be_." You admit and peek out of the sheets, deciding that maybe a long soak in the tub would help at least relieve you of the physical stress you are under. You shuffle the downy comforter off your aching form and wriggle onto the floor.

You drag your feet as you trudge to the washroom, the weight still pressing down on you. Once out in the main room, the remaining scent of a smoldered cigarette floats past your nose and you pause for a moment, then resume your trek.

You lock the washroom door behind your and turn on the tap for the large tub, discarding your sleepwear on the floor, and placing a change of clothing on the counter. You cautiously slip into the warm water and submerge yourself up to your chin.

"Iwasn't drowning...I was running." You huff and sink lower, blowing bubbles into the water. With an internal sigh, you submerge yourself in the warmth, allowing your muscles to relax in the soothing weightlessness. Your eyes grow heavy as the calming water lulls you to into the start of a slumber, but your breath becomes short in your lungs and you frantically resurface.

"You know, people who try running in the ocean often--"

"SHIT!" You shriek, cutting off Rosalind as you splash water over the edge.

"Drown..." The female Lutece grunts and flicks a sopping hand. You stare in horror, with your privacy invaded.

"Why are you in here?! GET OUT!" You scramble in the water to cover yourself with your arms.

The time traveler huffs and grabs a towel from the rack and pats off her damp suit jacket ,"You know, the last person who tried to run from their past ended up dying. It's best to run forward." Rosalind folds the towel, "also...I'd advise against sleeping in a tub." and vanishes. You stare wide eyed and take a deep breath, trying to get over the event.

" _But she's right (name)."_ You accept, " _...The only way to run is right at the problem_."

And with that decision, you sink back into the soothing water, letting your eyes flutter shut.

* * *

 

After about an hour and a half of falling back asleep in the water, you rudely awaken to the sensation that the once warm water had now gone cold. With an aggravated shiver you pull yourself from the tub and dry off. The slumber you  had just emerged from gave you plenty of time to think about where to go from here on out. As you expertly tighten your corset, you review what you would say. Clipping up your stockings  and the Sky-Hook to hide under your skirt you practice your facial expressions that would send fearful shivers down Travis Dempsey's spine. Tucking your shirt into your skirt, you envision the look on that bastard's face when you stand up to him. Finally fixing your hair and makeup, you smile wickedly into the mirror to the wondrous fantasy that he wouldn't be seeing the light of day again.

"Oh yes," You hiss a laugh, "Travis Dempsey. You are going to die."

With a spring in your step, you exit the washroom out into the main room. There you spot Booker reading over some papers and you freeze.

Right, you aren't alone on this trip. All your plans to single-handedly take down your worst nightmare all but shatter in the recesses of your mind. The ex-Pinkerton looks up from his papers and his expression brightens considerably, you swallow thickly and your heart races. You can feel all determination falter away.

"So what's on the agenda today (name)?" He asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Something was up. You take a deep breath and collect yourself, clenching the bundle of clothing in your arms, and you pace over to sit in the over-plush chair. With a thoughtful hum and a tap of the finger to your cheek, you feign a look of contemplation as you scan Booker's expression through your eyelashes. His jaw is tight with a worried tension, his normally clear green eyes are clouded with concern, the smile he wears is forced, obviously he just found something out.

"Well...that's awful different of you to let me take the lead." You coo and take note of the red envelope and how he slightly winces, yes he's definitely hiding something, "After all, we've got a madman on our hands."

Your partner gulps and exhales harshly, "Well...I--"

"What's on those papers? Something from Fitzroy?" You cut him off coolly, hoping to have him spill information.

"What's with the sudden interrogation?" He grows rigid and shuffles the papers away.

"Just. Curious." You slump back, trying to feign nonchalance. A silence passes uncomfortably. It's obvious Booker isn't going to be revealing anything soon as his posture stiffens  and he tightens his jaw harder. A sigh escapes you and you calmly fold the clothes in your lap, "Emporia. I hear they have nice things there." You utter, breaking the growing tension. Perhaps a day out on the town will lower your partner's defenses enough for you to figure out what he wasn't wanting to tell you.

The ex-war hero instantly slumps back and crosses his arms, "Alright. Emporia."

A smile cracks your lips, you would get your way.

* * *

 

The gondola ride over to Columbia's shopping district was all but comfortable. It seemed that everyone had the idea to squeeze onto one small ship in the summer heat and humidity. You do your best to squish yourself into a corner away from everyone. An anxious wave washes over you and your (color) eyes quickly scan the crowd for a pair of amber ones. Your hands tighten and you twist your fingers, nope, he's not here. A relieved sigh huffs out.

"Good..." you exhale. You feel a glance aimed at you and you look up to see Booker staring at you with a slight concern. A lump forms in your throat, how long had he seen your nervous fit?

"We're almost there." He places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes lightly, you instantly de-tense and sigh again.

As if on a cue, the gondola stops and the passengers all depart, you hang back until the coast is clear. You stare up at the high-rise buildings, all the colorful signs advertising various products, and how everything seems to meld into the bright azure sky. All anxiousness washes away as you thoughtlessly pace to the closest store. A clothing store.

You peer into the window at some of the most extravagant dresses you had ever seen. An excited squeal resonates from your throat and you bounce childishly in place. With excitement filling your being, you all but skip into the shop.

"Welcome miss!" The storeowner greets and you flash a smile, "Anything I can help you with?"

"Oh...just...looking." You trail a hand down one of the many flowing gowns, entranced by the gorgeous fabric. Then you looked at the price tag. Suddenly, not so gorgeous. You turn on a heel to find Booker at the other side of the store, eyeing up a new shirt. You pace up behind him.

"For the one you tore up." He gruffly laughs. You crack a smile and laugh as well. The shop owner walks over as well.

"Are you interested in that one?" The owner asks, getting a little too close for comfort. You watch Booker tense up as the shopkeeper places his hands on the ex-Pinkerton's shoulders. A snicker passes your lips again.

"Uh...yeah." Your uncomfortable partner shuffles away, only to have the owner follow him. You revel in the hilarity that is the situation before stepping in, deciding that you had enough.

With a soft tug, you link your arm through Booker's and smile, "Dear stop teasing the man~" Your partner scoffs a groan and rolls his eyes. You can almost see the salesman's eager grin drop. The ex-Pinkerton holds out several silver eagles to the man before all but dragging you from the store.

A roar of laughter erupts from your throat as you nearly double over, "OH...MY...WORD!" You cackle, "You...aha...really have a way with...people." Booker purses his lips and passes a hand over his face where you catch the start of a blush of embarrassment. He quickly paces a few steps away. You can still feel a bubbling laughter deep inside.

The sound of children squealing in excitement catches your attention from your flustered friend. You casually stroll towards the sound, finding a large mass of children gathered around a huge toy store. They all chant gleefully for the doors to open and your own inner child becomes curious, causing you to further investigate.

On the large brightly painted doors is a sign.

" _MEET OLIVER THE OWL! TODAY ONLY!_ "

Under the colorful words is a drawing of a cartoonish green, red, and orange owl. You scratch your chin, something about that owl looks familiar.

The doors swing open and the children cheer louder, a metallic groan startles you, and you are now face to face with the large owl animatronic from days before. A nervous pain settles in your chest as you slowly back up to Booker, who's counting his eagles.

You utter a soft alert and point to the mechanical beast, Booker looks up and audibly gasps, he must recognize it too.

"Booker...That's..."

"Yeah."

The owl dances awkwardly around, it's gears clank loudly, and you swear you can hear someone cry in agony from within. A small, scrawny man scuttles from the shop and hurriedly ushers the beast back inside. The children all groan before dispersing. You twist your hands together.

"I'm going to check it out...alright?"

Booker casually drapes an arm across your shoulders, "Let's go."

You mentally debate whether or not to shrug off his arm, but the weight is surprisingly comfortable. The two of you stroll into the large toy store.

Marionettes dangle eerily from the high ceiling, plush toys slump lifelessly on the shelves, blocks scatter across the floor as a ball rolls into them. The grand room smells of dust and dry rot, the exact opposite of how it looks outside.

"Hello? Someone here? We're closed for renovation--"  the Toymaker stops midsentence  and stares at the two of you, "Oh, hello." He straightens up.

"Afternoon." You greet with a smile, trying to hide your suspicion. The man scurries up to the both of you. His stringy white hair wisps in his face, his dark eyes look empty, and he brings a pair of knobby hands to your cheeks before pulling your face down. He thoroughly stares over your features.

"Such a pretty doll you are," He looks over to a fairly annoyed Booker, "And such a strong toy soldier too. Please, please. Look around!" The man sweeps a bow and scuttles to the back.

"Well that was...weird."  Your companion mentions. You nod and begin to investigate the store.

* * *

 

After an hour of staring at dusty toys, the two of you decided to press back out into Emporia.

"I'll tell Daisy about this later." Booker huffs almost inaudibly as you both stroll down the streets.

"Speaking of Daisy...You had a paper from her earlier. What was that about?"

Your friend freezes in his tracks, eyes frantically darting about searching for an excuse.

"Look...I'll explain everything later, let's just...not for now."

Nervous weight set over you, this was not a good sign. But Booker didn't continue on the topic and instead walks away.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of colours and sounds. It was nice to have a companion to wander about the streets with, even if he was a little rigid. The two of you visited a photographer, several other clothing stores, and a park; the entire time your arms were linked.  You could feel all your troubles disappearing, almost as if there wasn't a deranged man and your ex from Hell up in this paradise.

But as the sun began to set, Booker  grew even more tense.

He slides his calloused hand over yours as he begins to lead you off the path. You look up at him curiously. Why was he acting so strange?

"Uh...Booker...shouldn't we be getting back?" You inquire, finding this whole scenario rather fishy.

"I don't want you coming along tonight." He mutters.

You grit your teeth and put a hand on your hip, "Why not?"

Your companion shuffles his feet, "Because...Travis is working for Fink."

"What? For Fink?" You repeat.

"And I saw what happened last time you two...collided." A twinge of concern laces his voice.

"Well next time we do, he's not coming out alive." You grit your teeth and stand defensively.

"No, _you're_ going back to the hotel until I return." He demands.

"WHAT?!" You screech in outrage, "NO! I'M GONNA MAKE SURE THAT BAST--"

The sensation of being pulled cuts you off as you slam against Booker's broad chest. His strong arms tightly wrap around you, and for a moment, you melt. Words hitch in your throat and your knees grow weak. You can't help but smile at the warmth and the faint smell of tobacco and  cologne.

Then you feel a hand slide down to the waistband of your skirt.

"Booker what ar--"

_G-CHK!_

Your Sky-Hook falls to the ground with a clatter and Booker jumps back, turns on a heel, and launches off the platform.

"SORRY!" He hollers as he speeds away.

"BOOKER! YOU BASTARD!"

A low, silky chuckle resonates behind you.

"Didn't I tell you your emotions will be the death of you?"

Suddenly, the world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it gets weird.  
> Now for some good news.  
> This story is now top of my priority list.  
> So that means, more updates!  
> (if you are reading Legendary, I apologize, it's gonna take some time)  
> But I hope you enjoyed.   
> I hope the wait was...  
> Semi-worth it...  
> See yew later  
> sweet Potaters


	10. Alcohol Cologne Gunpowder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a show, no one actually gets hurt. Right?

He had told you to stay put. He made sure he had just enough time to stumble you up so he could escape. While he tried to maintain his stoic facade, his clear green eyes had reflected a fear like none other. What was he so afraid of? He obviously was trying to keep you from Travis.

But here you are. Bound and blind.

You've grown sick of this feeling. The lack of control. The uncertainty. It drives you madder than the busiest hatter. You don't move as the burlap sack over your head is removed, well more like, you can't move from the restraints now on your wrists and ankles. You blink a few times, adjusting to the dark and musty cellar you are now in. The scent of mold, rust, and other pungent odors cause you to wrinkle your nose slightly. Travis' hard amber gaze cuts into yours, but you remain emotionless. Perhaps the hour you just spent floating in an unconscious nothingness was just what you needed to reset.

"Aw, what's wrong puppet? Upset that he left?" The pale man in front of you coos tracing a slender finger against your jaw. You don't falter, instead, you stare distantly at the wall farther off. You aren't going to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you, oh no. But Travis continues to blather on, and you keep up your blank stare, ignoring his ranting.

Dark, naked figures are lined up against the wall. They wear pained expressions and rattle the chains around their wrists and ankles.

" _Slaves?_ " You ponder.

Men, women, even children rattle and stomp, chanting prayers for mercy.

"GEORGE! SHUT THEM UP!" Your ex shouts, calling a burly man over to the enslaved people. They stop chanting and become still. George hoists a large bucket and splashes the contents over the captives. The group shrieks in agony. You have to fight to keep your emotions to a minimum as the victims writhe and fall. Travis turns back to you with a sick grin.

"Now, where was I? Ah yes, I got a fairly bad reputation after you swam away. So I'm here to even the score. You ruined my life, I'm just going to return the favor." He grabs you by the hair and violently pulls you closer to his face, almost like he is trying to threaten you.

A deep chuckle resonates from deep within you. Just something about his voice sounds so _desperate_. So weak.

"See you at show time love." He smiles and plants a kiss on your cheek. You feel the venom of his hatred burn your skin viciously. Another laugh escapes you. The prisoners all stare at you like you lost your mind, and they were probably right. You laugh louder and thrash.

This was supposed to be your vacation, a week away from life, not a week where you run into your past at full speed. It's almost ironic.

* * *

 

You sit in that chair for another hour until a new person returned to you. She holds a palette of paints in her hand and scans your face. A wicked smile cracks her lips. The flickering lights keep you from getting a good look at the woman in front of you.

"So you're the whore who went after my darlin'." She drawls with an accent so thick it could smother you.

"You're with that bastard?" You laugh.

_SLAP!_

You face stings from her hand striking you, but your smile remains. Something inside has snapped. Perhaps your red-hot anger at the entire situation finally drove you off the deep end.The girl dips a brush in bright red paint and sloshes it over your lips in the thick paint like a crude lipstick. She smothers your face in white, reveling in your discontent cries when the paint drips over your eyes. With a harsh jab of the thumb, she smears blue over your eyelids.

"aha careful there." You slowly crack open your eyes and sputter red paint, "Might take out my eyes."

"Oh wouldn't that be a shame..." She coos mockingly before tracing a hand down to your collarbone.

"Shouldn't you ask me to dinner first?"

"Oh shut up!" The woman bunches your top in her fist and tears it clean off your torso with amazing strength, revealing the tops of your breasts and your corset. She walks behind the chair and drags you into an elevator. A sudden wave of nervousness overrides your mad apathy as the elevator rises up towards bright lights. You hear the sounds of shouting and music up above. The woman moves in front of you and removes something from her pocket, a small vial of gel. She dips a finger inside and smiles.

"Now, you have a _silent_ role." And she stabs a globule of the gel in your mouth. You jolt and try to scream, but the thick substance all but suffocates you. Violently you cough and try to hack out the substance, but it does not move.

"And...show time." In a flash your standing center stage, the lights, sounds, and smells all sending you in to a disoriented state. You stumble around towards the moving shadows of figures, hoping to find some way out. Bodies crash against you and a bat comes down on your shoulder, sending you sprawling into the rough sand. Your eyes begin to sting as perspiration drips the paint into your eyes, blurring your vision even more. Violent coughs shake your body while more dust and smoke almost suffocates you. With a survival determination, you curl yourself up in a ball, hoping that you would be ignored for the rest of the performance.

But of course not, and the crowd goes wild as hands viciously grab your arms and pull you around like a ragdoll.

Then one word rings out in unison from the crowd.

"WHORE!"

Ropes bound themselves once more around your arms and a noose falls over your head. Your helpless body is placed up on a pedestal as the crowd hisses and boos. Panic sets in, you had been in tough situations before, but then you had a chance to get out. Not here, not now. Everyone is watching.

You close your heavy eyelids and try to swallow.

" _This is it (name)_. _It's over_."

The crowd counts down.

3...

2...

_KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAHCK!_

The post behind you splinters and the rope frays. The crowd goes into a panicked frenzy and the actors all bark out orders to one another. Thundering footfalls seemingly shake the big top as the patrons flee. The sounds of combat are soon matched by swatches of red swarming the stage.

"DEWITT! GET 'EM OUTTA HERE!" Daisy commands. You frantically toss your head looking for your partner in the blur of battle. A sudden weight hefts you from the stand and back to the ground.

Alcohol...Cologne...Gunpowder. A relieved smile cracks your painted lips as you're removed from the situation.

* * *

 

After a few minutes of discombobulated travel, you are greeted with the sudden sensation of a wet cloth against your face. A rough hand wipes away the paint and you sputter. You attempt you speak but the gel is still lodged in your windpipe.

"This is gonna be unpleasant but..." Booker comments lowly and you see him pull out a small bottle of something and uncork it. He slides the bottle's neck under your nose and the stench is something almost unreal. In a split second, you go from gagging to losing your lunch.

You groan and stagger a little, about to fall over until Booker catches you and holds you still. His hands shake slightly and you look up to see a burning regret in his eyes.

God you love those eyes, how all his emotions play right behind them...

"I'm so sorry...I thought...You'd be safe..." The Ex-Pinkerton all but chokes out.

"Well I hope you know what this means..." You slump into his chest, already fairly winded.

Your companion vocalizes a confused hum.

"It means...I'm not going to stop until Travis is dead man by my hands."

With your head against Booker's chest, you hear his heart skip nervously and his hands hold on tighter. He attempts to speak, but you hear his words hitch a few times.

"I...I can't let you do that (name)." He attempts to speak as stoically as possible.

Your eye twitches, "And why not?" the flame in your stomach ignites.

"Because...He's--"

"What? _Dangerous_? Booker I've dealt with hundreds of 'dangerous' men, and tru--"

"I...I can't...I just..."

The situation quickly grows tenser and you try to push away. Only when you do, you end up falling to your knees. The ex-investigator extends a hand, but you wave it away and remain on the ground. With huff you cross your arms.

"So you're saying you don't trust me?" You let out a quick laugh, "And yet a few days ago we were bludgeoning in heads, and yesterday I saved your sorry ass from a giant owl thing." a scoff escapes, "Don't believe me."

"Look I..." He grunts, quickly becoming agitated.

"I _need_ to do this Booker."

Everything seems to freeze and your companion looks at you with the most broken gaze you had ever seen from a man. He throws a hand up under his nose and groans, a steady stream of blood leaks through his fingers and down his shirt, a few drops hit the ground. You can hear his words breaking in his throat as he tries to speak. The glint of a tear shines in the hazy light.

Then with the most determined voice Booker speaks up.

"I'll be _damned_ if I lose you too. Every woman who comes into my life, I end up losing. And I am sick and tired of not doing any goddamn thing about it. My wife Caroline...My daughter Anna...Elizabeth...I won't let it happen again." The burning passion behind his eyes sent chill down your spine. Had he been acting so off because he wanted to protect you? He actually cared? You don't comprehend that you're back up being stabilized by Booker until you feel his hands tighten over your shoulders. You swallow thickly, the fire inside you smoldering into embers that seem to knot up your stomach.

No one had ever cared for you in so long. Skeptical eyes flicker over Booker's expression. Is he lying? No, he's too beaten to lie. With your thumb, you swipe away the tear slowly trailing down the man's face and smile weakly. Instinct sets in and you bring your other hand up to his cheek. You can feel Booker's hands hesitantly fall to your waist, he exhales shakily and leans over, his forehead presses against yours. The almost soothing scent of alcohol, cologne, and gunpowder has you smiling brighter as you part your lips to speak.

"You're not going to lose me."

The space between the two of you closes, and for once, things feel alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLICHES.  
> So. There's chapter ten.  
> And I can't stop giggling like a school girl.  
> I cut it off where I did because well...there may or may not be a citrus-like chapter.  
> But for those of you who are not fond of lemons, it's not going to be important to the plot.  
> In which I will write chapter 12 before hand and post both on the same day.
> 
> But, how did you like this?   
> I really have nothing else to say on it.
> 
> For a little heads up, I start my first year in college in two weeks. So...expect things to possibly slow down for a smidge.  
> I feel bad, always slowing down my updates. Especially with my new project coming up.  
> YES THAT'S RIGHT, A NEW PROJECT.
> 
> Might as well tell you now because It's killing me.  
> For the past...Uh...few...weeks, months? I have had the absolute honor of working with the lovely Mothra on a new Booker x Reader. And I am proud to say that in the near future it shall finally come to light. And it's gonna be...AWESOME.  
> SO GET PUMPED MY LIL TATERS 
> 
> OH! Poll time.   
> With the exception of the new fic. I have a few mini-fics/ one-shots sitting around. And I just wanted to know what you would be interested in.  
> No White Flags (Borderlands)  
> The Overlooked (Borderlands)  
> Occupational Hazards (Bioshock Infinite)
> 
> UNTIL NEXT TIME


	11. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe its something you both need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONHONHONHONHON.  
> Guess what's heeereee?  
> THATS RIGHT. A MOTHAFRIGGINLEMON.  
> So I said I would be posting a double update.  
> Well, hopefully in a few days chapter 12 will be up for all of you who aren't too comfortable with lemons.  
> ALSO announcement time.  
> This story is now top priority since we are starting to get into the epic finale.   
> The face off with fink and the cirque!   
> So if you are reading one of my other stories, those shall be on temporary hiatus until this is done.  
> ALSO -jumps on the Jack x Reader bandwagon-   
> So enjoy your time with everyone's favourite trash dad.

He tastes like cheap whiskey. It's the first thing to pass through your mind as your lips move against one another. The next thought is how warm you feel inside, like someone had trapped the embers of a fire and sprinkled them under your skin. Instinctively, you bring your hands up around Booker's broad back and sigh against his lips. One of his hands travels up behind your neck and you wince away, feeling the stinging brush burns from the rope.

"Sorry." He apologizes and steps away, taking your wrists in his hands and looks at the angry red rashes. He exhales sharply and brings his gaze up to yours.

"Let's go get you patched up."

You huff and nod, not attempting to move from his grasp as he leads you back to the Monument Hotel.

 

The entire lobby is silent since it's the middle of the night. The only one there is the secretary who covers her mouth with a hand as she gasps from your disheveled state.

"Oh my! Were you caught in that attack?! Oh I thought this place was safe..." She trailed off in worried rambling. Word travels fast up in the sky. Booker lightly pulls you into step once more as you make your way to the elevator.

The night-shift elevator boy glances at the two of you and smiles, "Which floor?"

"Fifth." Your companion grunts and places a hand on your stomach as you begin to keel forward.You shift your weight onto his strong arm and regain balance. The boy gives a weary look as he pulls the lever, sending the elevator up.

The two of you stumble out of the small space and head down the hall to the suite. With a click of the lock, the door creaks open and Booker helps you inside. He leads you to the closest room.

Your companion helps sit you down on the edge of his bed, “Alright, let’s see what those bastards did…” He closely inspects your wrists, slowly rolling his thumbs against them; sparks flew under your skin from the simple motion.

“They aren’t broken.” You mutter, “They didn’t really hurt me…They just…” You trail off and bring a hand to your stomach. The bones of your corset press hard against your ribs, you don’t remember tightening it so taught.You attempt to unlace it, but your arms ache in defiance. Another slightly dissatisfied groan passes your lips as you struggle to fumble with the laces.

“Here…” Booker offers and takes a spot behind you, not willing to move you in such an exhausted state. You feel his hands run over your shoulders and down your back, fire trailing behind his touches. Booker hisses at the sight of the multitude of bruises and you groan at the discomfort, but your companion keeps on and almost proficiently unties the laces. The stiff material and metal bones creak and nearly pop open, you gasp and slump over.

Shuffling slightly, you remove the garment and hear Booker mutter something under his breath.

“What was that?” You hum, and push yourself to sit up. A hand traces over the wounds you had received over the course of this week. Sparks fly under your skin as he trails against the scarring lacerations from the alleyway brawl. You hear him swallow thickly as his hands tense at your shoulders, slowly massaging out the tight muscles. You wince and he draws away with a quick “sorry”.

“No no…” You utter and unhook the front of your corset, allowing it to fall to the floor with a soft thud, “It’s fine; you just caught me off guard is all.”

Booker hesitantly resumes massaging your shoulders, he's so gentle as he kneads your muscles “Look I…I’m sorry…I didn’t think you woul—“

“Enough…” You cut him off and lean against his grip, “What happened is over now, and we both made it out alive. So no worries. You turn around and resituate yourself, staring your companion straight in the eye, scanning over his expression.

He bites his lip and twitches a brow, you notice his gaze drop lower and lower. His face grows bright red and you hear his breath hitch.

“U-uh…(name) you’re uh…e-exposed…” He musters out and averts his eyes. A soft snicker passes your lips. With everything that’s happened, you don’t care anymore.

“I think you’ve seen far worse.” The air thickens with tension as Booker rises to meet your eyes once more, “Better yet, you’ve probably _done_ worse.”

The ex-Pinkerton’s eyes darken slightly and his posture relaxes, “You assume right. How do you do that?”

You smile and cup his face in your hands, “Your eyes, your face, your skin, everything you do tells a story.” Booker drops a hand to your waist and leans in, planting a soft kiss against your lips.

“Then what did that tell you?” He says in a half whisper.

“That you haven’t been this close to a woman in a long time.” You gaze deep into his eyes, analyzing the rising fire behind them, a spark of longing reflects against his green irises and you feel everything inside you swirl together. It had been forever since someone had looked at you like that.

You lean forward and press against the ex-investigator, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently once more. He still tastes like cheap whiskey. You feel his hand on your hip begin to trace small circles against your skin while the other tousles into your (length), (colour) hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazes against your bottom lip and you gladly grant him access. The taste of whiskey grows stronger and perhaps spending enough time like this would be enough to get you drunk. But soon the both of you break for air and you feel heat building inside you.

Booker however, becomes unreadable. His eyes seem to glaze and his face goes back to its stoic normality. He stays like that for a moment or two before cracking a slight grin and chuckling out the phrase “well damn”. Your companion rises from his spot and shrugs off his vest.

“So, you say skin tells a story?” He inquires as he unbuttons his dress shirt to reveal a plethora of scars and scrapes, bruises and bumps, all scattered over a stocky, muscled chest. Your pulse races and you feel yourself begin to tremble. You notice that same endearing look, subtly dashed with some sort of hunger.

“I’d say you’re a novel.” You smile as he leans over you. With shaking hands, you cup his face once more and kiss over his cheeks, nose, and finally his lips.

He advances and slides the two of you farther onto the sheets. His one hand rests between your shoulder blades as the other moves to his belt.

You hear the clattering of the buckle and you freeze. Your side aches as a memory ofyears past flashes through your thoughts. Booker senses this and abruptly stops. His green eyes lock onto your (colour) ones and flicker apologetically.

"We probably...uh--"

"No...It's alright...No use living in the past." You pull him down and massage a hand through his messy brown hair. With your other hand, you run your fingers down the crevasses of his chest, feeling his muscles twitch under your touch. A faint warmth spreads inside your belly as you watch the sparks behind your companion's eyes come to life. He moves his hand from your back to your shoulder then down your chest, pausing for a moment at the subtle swell of your breast. His breath catches in his throat before he resumes exploring your skin.

You all but shudder under his touch as his fingers trail over the rough patch of skin from your scar, but he doesn't stop. Booker collects the fabric of your skirt and slides his hand up your thigh.

"W-wait..." You whisper, pressing your hand against his chest, telling him to get up. He obliges and you sit up. You unbuckle the knife sheath around your upper thigh and place it on the night stand, "That could have been bad."

He laughs and sits up next to you, "Yeah, that would really ruin it." then he kisses the crook of your neck, causing you to gasp softly as his stubble scratches against your skin. His hands return to their positions, one on your hip, the other resting on your thigh. He slowly moves the hand on your thigh inwards and you graze your hand over his.

You fumble with the loose belt around his hips and listen to it clatter as it hits the floor. You tuck a hand into his waist band and run your fingers along his hips. Booker moans against your skin and wriggles his fingers under the leg of your undergarments. He curses softly as he withdraws his fingers and moves to the buttons of the bloomer-shorts. But they don't budge and you hear him swear again. He leans back and squints. You giggle at his expression and pull at his waistband.

"Hold on..." He pushes off his slacks and his boxers, "There."

Your face heats up and you scoot off the bed, so you can remove what's left of your clothing as well.

You slide out of your skirt and finger the buttons of your own undergarment, suddenly feeling embarrassed and excited at the same time. It had been so long since you had felt this way about someone. But you push past the embarrassment and undo the buttons, revealing the rest of yourself to your companion in the pale light of the moonbeams streaming through the blinds.

Booker lightly grabs your wrist and pulls you on top of him, so that you're straddling his hips. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He kisses your lips and rolls his hips against yours, making you moan into the kiss. You feel his stiff member press against your folds and send chills down your spine as you gasp again. He leans you back onto the soft comforter and rolls his hips once more.

You relish in the way he feels against you, how he's gentle despite his rugged exterior. He trails a hand back down your side and softly rubs the inside of your thigh. His fingers make their way to your heat and slide about your opening. You gasp against his lips as he delves a finger within. Your hips buck against his hand as he explores the inside of your womanhood. He slid another finger in and started curling and uncurling the digits. Then he rubs over that bundle of nerves that has your mewling and gasping. The space between your legs almost feels like it's on fire as your companion continues. It had been so long since you felt this good.

He slowly withdraws his fingers and you whine, breaking the kiss. Booker looks down at you and smiles before replanting his lips on your breast. You jolt under the action and mesh your fingers through his hair. The ex-investigator lightly bites at the soft skin, leaving small marks. You scrape your nails down his back and exhale sharply.

Your companion moves back onto your lips and positions himself at your entrance.

"You...sure about this?" He asks between breaths, one hand stroking your cheek. You nod and wrap your arms back around his neck.

With a thrust, Booker pushes inside and you take his length generously. He slowly begins to pump, his member throbbing against your inner walls. You feel sweat already collecting on your skin as he thrusts in and out. Every motion has you panting and gasping for more. You move against him, adding more pleasant friction. A satisfying warmth spreads through you like wildfire as knots tangle in your core.

You scratch against his broad back and bite at his neck, listening to him breathe your name shakily. He hooks a hand under your leg and pulls it up slightly, giving him a new angle. You scream his name as the knots become painfully tight. Booker increases his pace and attacks your nerves. Every thrust has you wriggling and trembling in utter euphoria. 

You hear him cry out your name as he suddenly releases, it's enough to send you over the edge as the tension inside you snaps as well and all your heat spills. The two of you gasp deeply, catching your breaths as Booker pulls out and falls next to you. His messy brown hair is slicked to his face with sweat and you lazily push it away. He pulls you into an embrace and rubs his hands against your back. You grab the disheveled sheets and pull them over the two of you.

"Hah...damn it's been too long..." He breathily laughs and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

You wriggle closer and press up against him, "Thank you..." you sigh and entwine your legs with his, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Booker is already fast asleep, softly snoring, arms wrapped around your waist.

You don't care if the whole police force is now looking for you, that everything is going to hell. All that matters now is the man next to you, and how after all these years, you found someone who cares. A smile spreads across your face and you kiss his forehead.

Within moments, you fall asleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, how are you doin?  
> Good? I hope so.  
> See ya next chapter!


	12. Keeping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm's coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter 12! It's a little short. But don't fret! The rest of the story is gonna be nothin' but ass-kickin' sweetness! I hope you all enjoy and know that you all are so awesome to stick through the thick and thin of this!

Your eyes slowly flutter open as sunlight filters into the room. A yawn escapes your lips and you inhale the scent that you have grown to love. You shuffle slightly and tighten your arms around Booker, humming pleasantly to yourself. A hand slides its way through your hair and you smile.

"Morning." You coo and untwine your legs from his. The ex-investigator opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off.

"Well I hope you're happy." Rosalind snaps at the both of you from a chair across the room.

"Oh I know _I_ am." Robert chuckles as he enters with two cups of tea, one of which he hands to his sister.

"Hush you" The female Lutece scolds then turns back to face you, "You were supposed to handle this civilly and quietly, not like savages. Such an undesirable outcome."

This only serves for Robert to laugh louder, "Ah, but what if violence is just another constant in our equation? That only means the final outcome shall be even more unpredictable."

The twins begin to rattle off about topics that boggle the mind. You look up at Booker who is just staring fairly agitated at the two physicists with his lips in a tight line.

Another moment of awkward witnessing passes before the ex-Pinkerton clears his throat, "If the two of you are done arguing about the situation, I would like to get up and actually get on with the day."

The Luteces look back at Booker and sigh in unison, shaking their heads before exiting. Your partner looks over at you as he begins to scoot from under the sheets, "I suggest you get ready too" he sighs and begins to collect his clothes off of the floor. You nod and grab your knives from the nightstand.

With some mental preparation, you stagger out to your own room.

* * *

The locks on your suitcase unlatch loudly and the lid flies open, clothing spills over the edges and you begin pulling out something…combat appropriate.

"I was hoping I wouldn't need to bring this out." You huff and unfold the dusty split riding skirt from the bottom of the case. Next is a white top with no sleeves. You had cut and tailored the sleeves off years ago for better movement with your knives. Then your corset, and finally a brown leather vest. It had become a habit of yours—well more like a paranoia- to always take your old gear with you.

With a heaving sigh you button up your shirt. Images of bloodshed flash in your mind. You shudder and move to the corset.

Nimble fingers latch the hooks in front together and trace over various slash marks in the sturdy material as they advance to the laces in the back. This thing had kept you from your fair share of fatal wounds, except for the one time you needed it most. You grunt as you tighten the strong laces and straighten your back. The sound of mad laughter erupts in your thoughts as you reach for the riding skirt.

You tug the fabric up and over your hips, fastening the buttons on the top. With a few swipes of the hands, you dust off the loose black fabric. Another deep sigh passes from you. You shrug the vest over your torso and slowly slip each button into its place. The worn cracks in the leather bend to your every move and the subtle scent of oil brings back memories of years before.

"This'll be the last time." You swear as you rummage through the suitcase, slightly panicking when you can't find your belt, "Oh, come off it…"

A soft thud next to you draws your attention.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you hadn't lost your mind yet with those organizational skills." Rosalind huffs and lays out a thick belt and your skyhook. You glare daggers at the woman, not wanting to put up with her ramblings again.

"You can still go back you know" She softens, "The last airships heading to the coast are docking now, you don't have to fight."

"I'm not leaving Booker here all on his own. He'll die without my help." You snap back and begin tightening the belt around your waist. A soft sigh resounds to your ears, the female Lutece stares sorrowfully at you, like a mother bearing bad news to her child.

"Then, from here on out, not even my brother and I will be able to tell what's going to happen."

"All the constants have added up, now it's time for the variable" Robert chimes in with a large beaker full of some luminescent yellow liquid, "here; a parting gift." He holds out the beaker and you take it, eyeing it up questionably.

"What do I…What is it?" You ask, uncorking it. The liquid smells almost... sweet.

"Just some added protection, drink it. All in one go would be best."

Against all better judgment, you obey the male and take a hefty swig of the fluid.

Suddenly your vision blurs, reality seems to crack apart with golden streaks, and you cough and gasp as your body feels like it's on fire. It sure as hell didn't taste as sweet as it smelled.

When you finally regain your senses, the twins have left, and you feel the weight of the situation fall onto your shoulders. You take hold of your knives and place them into the holsters on your belt, easy to access. Then you dangle the skyhook from your other side. You take your personal first aid kit and manage to attach it to the back of your belt.

With a huff, you balance on the balls of your feet and shuffle about, making sure your set up wouldn't hinder you in any way. Thankfully, it doesn't and you take one long look at your room, fairly sure this will be the last time you ever see it.

* * *

You walk out into the main room. Booker slings a carbine over his shoulder and glances back to face you.

"We're going to see Daisy first, get some answers, and find out just who we're up against."

There's a knock at the door, "DeWitt, I know ya in there."

"Or it looks like Daisy's coming to meet us. Odd." He paces to the door and slowly pulls it open, a small hoard of Vox rush in.

Fitzroy glances over the two of you, her face lined with distress, "They're pullin' out all the stops."

Both you and Booker look at the Vox leader with extreme confusion.

"Alright, what is going on? No more of this shady business." The ex-investigator sternly asks.

Daisy sighs and runs a hand through her braids, "I was up here when Columbia first started out. I served as an assistant to the original four founders. They made this place a _true_ utopia. People of all colors, sexes, ages, they had fun up here. There was another assistant, Jeremiah Fink, he was an inventor, an engineer of sorts. He didn't agree with the founders…"

The look in Daisy's eyes grow distant as if she's reliving the experience, "One day though, the founders just…vanished. Not killed, but…vanished. So I did what any good assistant does, I went a-lookin'. And…and what I found. Fink had to have been workin' behind their back's…He hired another man, a toymaker, to create monsters."

"And these monsters…are the…founders?" You imply.

"Not yet. My spies say that they haven't completed the process yet. That the founders just stumble around in the suits."

"And let me guess, everything is all segregated now because Fink, blamed you and probably every non-white person up here…" Booker mumble, wiping away a trail of blood from his nose.

"Perceptive aren't you?" Daisy half-laughs.

"You could say that."

A moment of uncomfortable silence passes as the Vox leader pulls out a map of Columbia, "Our first goal is to stop the monsters from being created, to save the founders, once that's done it's onto Fink and his flunkies."

You glance over the marks on the map, ignoring the what Daisy says, trying to mentally envision the easiest route. A thought resurfaces and you take a step back. Taking this on means that you will eventually have to face Travis. And after what happened back at the big top, you were fairly certain he'd pull out all the stops. He was careless that way.

" _Is it too late to head back_?" You mentally ask and glance over at Booker who places a hand on your back as if to say 'It's going to be alright'. The two of you share a look.

"-And that leads us to the last False Founder, Booker and (Name)?" The Vox leader grabs your attention, "Can you handle the last one? He's a bit of a tough one, smooth talker too. Wouldn't be surprised if he tried to weasel out of his demise."

"Just tell us who we're going after." Your partner states.

Daisy holds out a photo, your eyes widen.

" _Of course._ " You groan mentally, " _It just has to be Travis_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahah Lutece's return for another sass-attack. Also, like I said last chapter! This is now actually top priority, so hopefully that means I can put out a chapter every two weeks. That's my goal, consistent updates! So yes! I hope you all enjoyed and stick through until the exciting conclusion.
> 
> See ya later, Sweet Potaters~


	13. Parlor Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...ACTION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Chapter 13. With a nice chunk of action. Enjoy.

It sounds simple enough, run into the creepy as hell toy shop, destroy it, get on to killing Travis, go home and act like this is all a bad dream. Of course, you know well enough that it's not going to be the case. Of course not. With the way this week had been going, you'd be lucky if you could even reach Emporia without some giant animatronic owl trying to decapitate you, the police force knocking down your door, or even the city itself plummeting from the skies.

But so far, things look fairly decent. You are able to leave the hotel premises without being shot at.

As soon as you pass through the front doors, the rest of the Vox scatter to take on their respective missions, and suddenly it's silent. No more jovial laughter of patrons, no children squealing in excitement, no loud music floating through the air, absolute silence. Papers flutter in the breeze, abandoned luggage litters the pathways, and you stare off in the distance. A lone shape on the horizon; it's the last airship, floating away to safety.

"Looks like it's too late to go home now." You laugh bitterly and kick a loose pebble. Booker huffs out a chuckle and begins walking towards an abandoned picnic basket. You follow, curious as to what he is doing.

The ex-Pinkerton flips open the lid and pulls out a bottle of soda. He pops off the cap and downs the drink in a few gulps. You raise a brow in confusion. Booker clenches his fist and you swear you see a spark jump across his hand.

"That should do it." He turns to you and smiles, "Alright, let's go destroy a toy store."

You keep your brow raised and hum in agreement, falling into step behind your companion.

* * *

The streets of Columbia are eerily quiet, the only sounds are that of your feet on the pavement, flags flittering in the wind, and the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. Booker continues his lead with his pistol drawn and his finger tense on the trigger. You keep a hand over your knives and scan the area for the umpteenth time for any traces of activity.

"This isn't right…" Booker states, stopping in his tracks, "It shouldn't be this easy."

"AND HOW RIGHT YOU ARE MISTER DEWITT!" Fink's voice crackles over the loudspeaker.

You tense and unsheathe a knife, "Alright Fink, what's goin' on?"

"OH I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED! FOR TODAY AND TODAY ONLY, THE CIRQUE DE LA UTOPIA IS PUTTING ON A SPECIAL PERFORMANCE!"

You look around to see security crawling from the woodwork. You swallow thickly and scoot closer to Booker and tap his arm. He glances around and quickly checks the clip in his pistol.

"Hope you enjoy the show." Fink chuckles as a shot fires in the air.

The security officers all leap to action, some with Billy clubs, others with guns, and a few with launchers. You draw your knives and side your other hand into your Sky-hook, revving it to life. Booker begins firing with deadly accuracy between the eyes of several guards. You charge towards your first target and plunge your fistful of knives into his face, hastily withdrawing and kicking him in the solar plexus as he sputtered out his last breaths. With a flick of the wrist you shake off the excess blood and send your knives speeding into another guard's chest. They stagger back as you lunge forward and smash your hooks into his jugular, rev the mechanism, and end their life in a spray of crimson.

You reach over to collect your knives, only to feel a pair of arms hoist you back from behind.

"Oya, wassa _lady_ doin' tryin' ta fight? I says we teach 'er a lesson." You hear a gun click and press against your temple. You look at Booker, who is decently preoccupied with fighting off ten other men. A cold chill runs down your spine and you swallow thickly. The gun fires, your vision cracks, everything in your head becomes a high-pitched mess of incoherency, but, you aren't dead. Your attacker drops you and staggers back, his hands rubbing his eyes. You stumble forward and turn clumsily on a heel to face him. You leap at him and swing your fist at his jaw, successfully knocking him to the ground.

Regaining your senses, you thrust your foot under his ribs, hearing a muffled crack as he falls unconscious. The other guards all stare at you, their bodies trembling in fear. You smirk and take a step forward, they step back. You twirl a knife in your palm and grin wider. Suddenly the guards are sent flying from a cannon burst, their bodies fly through the air, burning. You look to the side to see your companion awkwardly shouldering one of the launchers.

You sheath your weapons and rub your temple, a slight headache forming, "Well that was…interesting…" a ripple of gold passes in front of your eyes. Booker just stares at you and sighs heavily.

"C'mon…we gotta keep moving." He states and reloads his gun before jogging off with you not far behind.

* * *

Making your way to Emporia isn't too hard. Even with the constant waves of guards, you and Booker are able to make quick work of them and continue onwards in a little over an hour. Smaller airships buzz about the skies, some with security, and others with Vox; their red banners trailing through the air. Commands echo all around as the two of you soar across on the Sky-Rail.

The air grows thick as dark storm clouds draw closer, the thunder becomes louder, and you watch as arcs of lighting dance in the distance. You swallow thickly, hoping that you would be out before the storm hit.

With a leap, you land in Emporia. The area looks untouched, brightly coloured string lights illuminate a path towards the toy store, and soft music plays over the chaos in the distance. You and your partner cautiously follow the lights, weapons ready. All the other shops are dark and hopefully abandoned.

"Well this isn't creepy at _all_." You grumble and walk faster to catch up to Booker. He places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. Your shoulders slacken a little and you huff.

_Thud_

You both stop.

"(Name)...What was-" The remaining lights in the area all power down and the music stops. The only source of light is the sun hiding behind the cloud cover.

You grab a knife and prepare your Sky-Hook, "I don't like the looks of this..."

Thunder loudly cracks across the sky and you jolt, looks like the storm's here. Rain quickly falls in sheets, obscuring your view. Booker tightly grabs your wrist and presses on forward. The pounding rain drowns out any more sounds.

You stop for a moment, swearing that you heard something else in the distance.

" _God, now I'm hearing things._ " You mentally decide.

Walking for another few minutes, the two of you are abruptly stopped.

In the pouring rain, you can make out the lights of the toyshop a few yards away; Booker drops his hand on your shoulder and draws your attention.

His green eyes scan over your face with concern behind them, his lips purse in thought as he furrows his brow, "(Name)," He mumbles, "are you ready?"

You nod and take the lead, ready for this all to be over. The obnoxiously coloured lights of the shop draw closer and closer as you trudge through the pouring rain. Your cheeks begin to sting from the icy chill and you hug your arms around your torso to try and regain some warmth. Your clothes feel heavy from the downpour and only serve to slow you down more.

The two of you finally reach the storefront. Red light pours out the oversized barred windows, and corpses are posed in the display like macabre dolls. You gag a little and press against the door, wanting to put an end to this quickly.

Inside, the body of the toy maker hangs from the ceiling, his neck and wrists bound like some marionette, fresh blood drips from his corpse onto the floor. From behind, you hear the door slam shut and Booker yelling from outside. You freeze and draw a knife. Your stomach sinks as the stench of death filters into your nose.

A laugh echoes throughout the shop, feet scuffle across the floor, and a gun cocks.

"Tell me dearest. What's black, white, and red all over?" Travis chuckles.

"TRAVIS! COME OUT WHERE I CAN SEE YOU!" You command, getting ready to spring. A shot fires in front of your toes and you leap back.

"Wrong answer~" He coos before scuttling off again. You pace slowly around, trying to exploit his hiding spot. You heart hammers in your chest. You've fallen right into his hands, just like before. The room falls eerily silent and you feel your throat tighten in fear. You've come too far for everything to fall apart now.

Another shot whizzes past your ear and you feel the hot sensation of the cartilage bleeding. You grit your teeth and dart your eyes around, still looking for any sign of the bastard.

Feet scuffle again and you run to a wall, hoping that maybe you could hide for a moment. You press flat against the wall and exhale sharply.

"What's wrong dearest? Drowning again?" You hear him leap from his spot with a grunt.

Travis lands in front of you, and with lightning fast reflexes, you swing your arm and release a knife. He falls with a heavy thump and you smile wickedly.

Travis Dempsey is no more.

The front door suddenly unlocks and you hear Booker run in, he pulls you in for a quick hug then releases you to investigate the scene. You stare at the body on the floor, the dull red light washing over his lifeless face.

"Yes! YES! I DID IT!" You cheer. The room suddenly floods with white light and your cheers turn into a scream of rage. On the floor was a sparking, twitching, motorized mannequin, its face sculpted to look like your ex's. In a fit of anger, you kick the contraption, sending its head flying. Booker sighs and slumps his shoulders.

"Did you like that trick? I hope so. Because you'll really love this one." The con man's voice laughs.

You hear several latches click and the door locks again, a long metallic hiss resonates as steam fills the room. Gears rattle and engines start up. You swallow thickly as the back wall of the shop parts with a cloud of vapor. In the mist, eight pairs of glowing eyes hover six feet in the air, unblinking and unmoving.

"Well shit." Booker exhales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I waited until the end of this chapter to really lay down the news. Uh, well, looks like I'll be picking up more work ((cause I'm broke)) and I feel really bad because I thought I had more time. And life just did its thing. And I'm so sorry. My motivation is dropping like a rock. But I'm not going to abandon this fic...it's almost done!  
> I'm not planning on abandoning my other series either.  
>  See you next time.


	14. Deadman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Booker does a magic trick, someone dies, and things explode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at chapter 14, only one more to go. I really hope you've all enjoyed the ride. See you at the bottom!

The smoke clears, revealing four mechanical beasts. A rabbit standing on its hind legs, its once soft fur is matted, and its cartoonish teeth are chipped. An elephant with a colourful cannon on its back, in one hand it holds a cord, and in the other it holds a ball. The owl from before sways from side to side, its head twitching rapidly as if it is itching to attack. The last is a strange looking moth, beautiful carvings trail down the thorax, and large wings spread from its back.

You gulp and look at your knives; there is no way that you will be able to even make a dent on one of those creatures. Booker grabs your arm and slowly pulls you back towards the locked entrance.

"(Name)? How good are you with locks?" He whispers.

"…Not at all…" You reply and keep your eyes locked on the tall, mechanical beasts.

"Alright…Follow my lead." The ex-investigator leans against the locked door and holds up his pistol "HEY YOU BASTARD!" He fires a shot, "C'MON! COME GET US!" He fires another shot and you glare at your partner.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" You shriek and try to run, but Booker's grip tightens and you stare at him with fear in your eyes.

"Only on week days." He laughs and fires another shot that ricochets off the rabbit. The mechanical beast's eyes flicker red and it groans as it moves forward a step.

"THAT'S RIGHT YOU BIG FURRY ASSHOLE! COME GET US!"

The rabbit seems to hiss while steam erupts from its body, the other animatronics follow suit as their eyes flicker red and jolt to life. You gulp and instinctively press your back against the locked door and clench your eyes shut.

" _He's got to have a plan. He's got to!_ " You attempt to mentally convince yourself. Sweat rolls down your forehead as the loud clanking of gears resonates around the room.

"YA WANT A PIECE OF THIS?! C'MON!" Booker continues to shout, you hear him put away his pistol and draw something else out, and in an instant everything happens.

A loud screech pierces your ears, thundering footfalls speed towards you, your body suddenly becomes weightless, and a loud crash of metal temporarily deafens you. You dare to open your eyes and look up. Both your and Booker are suspended from a hook in the ceiling by the Sky-Hook, the Ex-investigator smiles down at you smugly. You look down to see the doors bashed open and sheets of rain pouring through the frame.

The two of you hang for a moment in the new silence. You hear the mechanical beasts clattering outside; their heavy foot falls fading into the distance. A sigh of relief passes your lips. You don't know why the creatures had decided to leave such easy targets alone, but you decide that maybe it's best to cross that bridge when you get there. Several distant explosions echo in the distance and startle you from your thoughts.

"I'm gonna let go, alright?" Booker asks, you nod and prepare for the drop. He releases his grip and you plummet to the floor, landing on your feet. The impact sends a jolt of shocking pain through your ankles and you stumble over. Your partner lands next to you with a grunt and pulls you up.

"They all just…ran off." You brush off your skirt and check yourself for any other injuries.

"We'll let Daisy deal with them, they have the firepower." He strolls over to a shelf of children's books and topples it over, "We have this job to finish first though". You walk over to another shelf and begin throwing its contents onto the floor. After all, destroying this creepy establishment is part of the job.

With the strike of a few matches, a small fire begins to spread across the floor. The two of you casually waltz out of the store as it quickly is overcome by the blaze. You sigh heavily as the rain drenches you once more and lightning cracks the sky. You glance into the distance and notice one of Columbia's many floating islands engulfed in flames and plummeting from the sky.

"We have to get out…Now." You declare, pulling out your Sky-Hook and dashing towards the closest rail.

* * *

After an hour and a half of trudging through rain, riding Sky-Rails, and taking dozens of detours, the two of you end up in the Soldier's Field amusement park. It has grown eerily silent, no airships buzzing about, no gunfire, no security, nothing. You keep your wits about you, suspecting anything—and everything—to happen all at once, but still nothing. The angry orange flames have spread all across northern Columbia. Not even the slightest hint of any sort of struggle can be seen, it's as if the battle was over and the fire was just burning away all the evidence.

Oh how you hope it's all done with, how you wish to be back on solid ground, sleeping in your own bed, doing your job, going about town. It all seems so desirable now. But there is still the job at hand to finish, and finding Travis is proving to be no easy task since you have no idea where he could be.

"I can't wait for this to all be over." You huff and lean against Booker. He drapes an arm over your shoulders and sighs as well.

"If I'm lucky, this'll be the _last_ time I'm stuck up in the sky…" He grumbles and looks up at the clouds, "What the he—OH COME ON."

"Wh—" You look up as well to see the mechanical moth soaring overhead, "Shit."

The beast dive bombs in front of you and rises from the rubble, its eyes still glowing red. A figure hops off of the creature. It's tall and lean, in its hand is some sort of object. You squint to try and make out the figure standing in the rain but to no avail. The intercom crackles to life.

"TRAVIS! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! COLUMBIA IS FALLING BECAUSE OF YOU!" Jeremiah Fink screeches at the figure.

" FINK! WHAT DID YOU DO TO DAISY?! TO EVERYONE?!" Booker hollers.

The man over the speaker screams in agony as you hear another explosion in the distance.

"They really did put up a good fight, but it looks like the bombs got the better half of them." The figure steps into the dim light, "Miss me, love?"

You draw a knife and swing your arm back to throw, "TRAVIS!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" He tuts, "I wouldn't if I were you. Between you, the moth, and me; in my hand is a dead-man's switch. Kill me and the rest of the city goes down. Fink never really approved of such drastic measures, but what's a little sacrifice for the greater good eh? I mean, after all, you _did_ ruin my life." His face is emotionless and a subtle smirk graces your lips.

"This guy is bat shit crazy." Booker whispers to you.

"He's bluffing." You quickly arc your arm back and release a knife. Travis screams as the blade pierces into his eye. You sprint up to him and punch him hard across the jaw, then catch him with your Sky-Hook. The con man's amber eyes flicker, begging for mercy. You smile wider as your finger tenses on the trigger.

"Y-you're gonna…dro—" Travis sputters before being interrupted by the hooks revving to life and carving out his intestines in a sloppy explosion of blood and tissue. His fresh corpse falls to the ground and blood washes away in the rain. The device falls out of his hand and you crush it under your heel.

"See? Bluffing" You turn to Booker, who is staring at you with his jaw agape. The mechanical moth clatters to life and slams a fist into your stomach, sending you flying backwards. You hit the ground and all the air escapes you for a moment.

In your daze, you look up to see Booker clenching his left hand. His face contorts into a pained expression as what appear to be dark blue crystals form in his fist. Ripples of electricity crackle from his palm, casting a light blue glow against his skin. Your eyes widen, you have never seen such a feat before.

The moth charges towards the ex-investigator, arm cocked back to punch, but Booker stands his ground as arcs of the bright blue electricity travel down his fingertips. He smiles and thrusts out his arm, a bolt of lightning bursts from his palm and strikes the moth, immobilizing it. You stare awestruck at the power, could he always do this?

The mechanical creature staggers and hisses as its joints lock, its head twitches violently, and blood begins to pool around its feet. Booker pulls out his carbine and begins firing into the monster's chest, cracking the hull. The moth's eyes flicker off as steam rises from its husk. You push yourself off of the ground and stare at the lifeless creature.

"You just…shot lightning…from your hand…" You stammer.

"Long story, probably can't do it again."

"Is that it?" You ask, "It's…over?"

"Looks like it." Booker replies and stares at his hand that is scorched in a few places.

You walk to the edge of the floating isle, place your hands on the rail, and close your eyes. For a moment, it's eerily silent. The rain has died down to a drizzle and the city around Soldier's Field slowly begins to fall from the clouds. A wave of sadness washes over you as you watch the magnificent city plummet into the sea below. All the work put into the floating masterpiece, destroyed. You sigh and look over at Booker. His gaze is distant and his lips twist into a frown.

"Booker?" You tug on his sleeve, but his gaze seems transfixed.

"Booker!" You say a little louder, but he still refuses to respond.

Behind you, a latch clicks and you hear something fall to the ground. You turn around to see a body slumped over on the pavement. It gasps painfully and shudders before coughing wetly and going still. A small box falls out of its hand.

_Beep_

Your eyes widen.

_Beep_

Booker grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you closer.

_Beep_

_"It's over, isn't it?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I was saying. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. You've all be so wonderful to me and I hope you continue to read on through my next BioShock works as well!


	15. The Variable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the adventure to come to a close.

"Of all the outcomes you _could_ have gotten..." Rosalind scolded in the empty void of your mind.

You floated in darkness, unaware of your surroundings. The only question in your mind was, “ _Am I dead?_ ”

"Come off it sister," Robert chimed, "At least she's still alive." The female Lutece huffed again; her voice seemed to draw closer.

“Well that makes one of them.”

“ _One of…what? What’s going on?_ ” You outstretched your arms and sprawled your fingers as you hopelessly grasped for something. You could feel two sets of eyes watching you.

“Oh. Look who’s waking up. Glad to see you’re still mentally with us.” The male red-head almost laughed, “Looks like you’ll have one more role before the show is over. Play it well. The audience hates a sad ending.”

“ _What? What’s going on?!_ ” It felt as if your body was being shoved around in a current. You head spun and ached. Your legs felt like they had been hit several times over with a sledgehammer. You heart beat rapidly and it became harder to breathe.

* * *

 

Your eyes shoot open, the lights above you blur your vision. A voice calls out next to you, but it’s muffled. You flop your head to the side and try to focus on the figure next to you. But everything remains in a mess of colours and blurry shapes. A hand grabs your shoulder and you wince in agony.

“—iss...(name)…Oh wow you’re up…” the voice becomes clearer, “You alright?”

You scan over the figure a few times and finally recognize it as one of your co-workers from the nurses’ ward in the hospital. The nurse helps prop you up with a few pillows and you hiss a little in discomfort. You glance around and notice the crutch next to you.

“Sorry ‘bout that…Must be that nasty gash on ya right…” she pushed back the blankets and your hospital gown to reveal a track of stitches along the mauled remains of your scar and tattoo. You trail your fingers over the wound and scoff as the fiber prickles against your fingertips. You look down farther to see a cast on your right calf. You shuffle the blankets back over yourself and lean back a little. The nurse looks at you expectantly.

“What?” You ask and raise a brow.

“What happened up there? You were in Columbia when all Hell broke loose wern’cha?” She leans closer. You nod slowly and inhale sharply.

“Everything. Anarchists, self-proclaimed revolutionaries, gamblers…they all decided that they wanted to ruin the best place on Earth.”

The nurse’s eyes widen, “Wow…y’know after it all happened we had a huge group of people from Columbia in here. All the nurses here were hopin’ that you were gonna be there too. Y’know, to make sure ya didn’t die in the mess…and when ya weren’t…” she shakes her head, “but a week ago police found ya and a few others on the shore, most o’ the others were dead though…”

You blink a few times to let that sink in before speaking.

“There’s a man I was with…His name is Booker DeWitt…brown hair, green eyes, scar on his upper lip…did h—“

“Carol, patient 77 is bleeding again…” A doctor mentions as he quickly rushes past the two if you.

“On it.” Carol rises to her feet and rushes off as well. Leaving you alone in the outpatient ward. You sigh and steel yourself for whenever she was to return. You trace the stitches on your side again and lean back farther realizing that you’re lucky to be alive.

After a few moments, something stirs within you. With aching bones, you swing your weight over the bed and grab the crutch with one hand and the IV pole with the other. You carefully balance your weight and slowly hobble past the sheeted wall and into the main area.

Almost all the beds are full and you watch as nurses scurry about with various medical supplies. Patients groan from behind the makeshift walls and you feel your face drop. Is this all because of what happened in Columbia? You shake the thought away and keep limping towards the private rooms.

You pass nurses and doctors who insist that you return back to your bed, but you pay them no mind, you have a goal at hand. The driving force inside of you keeps pushing you farther and farther down the halls as you scan each closed door for something. What it is, you aren’t quite sure yet, but you’ll know when you see it.

Everything seems silent as you make your way down the pristine tiled floor. The only sound is the soft clinking of the IV drip against the pole and your slightly labored breaths. The cold tiles sting against your skin and you stop for a moment to rest. You lean against a wall and stare down the rest of the hall.

“I’ll…never get there…at this…rate…” You huff. Two sets of hands gingerly grab your shoulders and guide you into a seat. You thrash a little and look up to see the twins in “borrowed” lab coats and face masks.

“You’re right.” Rosalind mentions, “You’ll never get there at this rate.”

“I thought you weren’t one for intervening sister.” Robert turns his attention to his ‘twin’ as the female Lutece wheels you down the hall.

“No, I’m not. I’m just speeding up the inevitable process.” You smile to yourself as you hastily are transported through the ward.

The wheelchair stops in front of a room. You wheel closer to the door and look at the chart.

‘ _Patient 77: Male, late 30s, brown hair, green eyes, about 190+ lbs. …’_ You do not care to read the rest.

“Do you want to do this?” The twins ask in unison. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as you debate whether or not to enter. As soon as you begin to pull away, you hear Booker cry out in sheer panic. Without thinking, you barge into the room.

You stare at Booker whom is restrained to the bed as he convulses and screams. Blood flows heavily from his nose, mouth, and ears. His form seems to faintly flicker like a film. The doctors all stare at you, but you ignore them and wheel yourself up to the bed.

“Booker…BOOKER!” You scream and shake his arm, but he keeps screaming, “BOOKER LISTEN TO ME.”

“Ca-can’t go back…can’t…no no no…”He whimpers with breathy gasps, “Not here…not there…smother…smother…” You move for the restraints and attempt to unbuckle them. The doctors grab you under your arms and hoist you back.

“NO!” you shriek and thrash out of the doctors’ grip. You lunge your weight forward and lean over the panicked Booker, “get yourself together!” You smack your palm hard against his cheek and surprisingly stop his convulsing. The doctors grab you again, this time with more force.

“Booker! Listen! You are not going back! You are not going back!” You struggle for a moment then feel a sharp object press into your arm. Suddenly you feel lightheaded and dizzy, colours and sounds mix into a haze, “B-ook-er…st-t-t-a-y…” your world goes black once more.

* * *

 

Falling…you remember falling. And the icy water as you plunged into the sea. Your paralyzed body floated atop the waves and onto the shore. You could barely keep your eyes open as you felt someone drag you from the water’s edge.

You remember hearing voices as they all spoke over your freezing form. You could hear the ambulance’s siren in the distance. Someone wrapped you in a blanket but you still felt numbingly cold.

You really were lucky to survive that fall with minimal injury. And yes, a shattered tibia and fibula was minor considering the drop.

It was over…You didn’t drown…You won…

* * *

 

“Always the fighter, aren’t you?” Carol coos as you come to, “Don’t know what’cha did, but your friend’s A-Okay.” You groan and look at the young nurse.

“Can I go home?” You mumble and sigh, “please?”

“Sorry dear. Doc says ya gotta rest here for at least another week.”

You groan louder, “Alright, well can I go see Booker?”

The nurse bites her lip nervously, “Sorry dear…he uh…ran off…last night…”

You grit your teeth, oh this is just perfect. You help a guy out and how does he repay you? He runs off!

“Bastard.” You hiss and turn your head away from Carol. She pats your arm and leaves you to your bitter thoughts.

The rest of the week passes slower than molasses in December. Carol visits occasionally to bring your meals or attempt to cheer you up, but it doesn’t work. You still cannot get over the fact that your partner would just up and leave you! But finally, you are released from the hospital with a new change of clothes and a set of crutches. You hobble out into the lobby to find your neighbor waiting for you.

“What are…how did you know I was here?” You made your way over to her.

“I uh…failed my job…” She giggles and begins leading you out to the trolley stop.

“What does that even mean?”

But your neighbor ignores you on the ride back home. You stare out the window to see that next to nothing has changed. Children still play out in the streets, wives hang laundry out on the lines, and husbands bustle about in their suits. The bakery still sells those sweet rolls, the birds are still singing, it’s a wonder how shut off Columbia was from everything. You sigh and lean slightly out the window, feeling the breeze through your hair. In the distance a boy hollers “COLUMBIA FALLS FROM THE SKIES! EXTRA! EXTRA! SURVIORS FOUND ON THE SHORES!” Cars drive by the electric railcar, a few pedestrians hop on and off at stops, and everything feels normal.

The trolley pulls up at the stop closest to the apartments and you neighbor helps you off. She cautiously guides you up the stairs and into the lobby where all of the other tenants are gathered. They all swarm you, asking various questions. You politely inform them that you will tell them everything tomorrow and that all you want is to sleep in your own bed.

You hobble up the stairs and to your apartment.

“ _I failed my job_ ” The voice of your neighbor repeats in your mind.

“Wait a second.”

“ _Don’t worry about your room dear, I’ll make sure no more men come through your window_ ”

You hastily unlock the door and all but stumble inside. Everything is still the same as you had left it.

A soft laugh passes you lips as you mumble, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” Booker steps out into the small foyer, “Sorry I had to leave on such short notice. But I’m here to stay now.”

Your hands fly up to your mouth and you stagger over to your partner. He pulls you into a light embrace and kisses the top of your head. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you smile.

Out of all the possibilities. Despite every obstacle. It was all over now and the outcome was the most desirable variable possible.

\--End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Here we are at the end of another journey. I hope you all enjoyed the ride.  
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Hopefully you all enjoyed reading it as well.  
> Happy endings are my favorite. And this one is especially happy for a game so dark and depressing.  
> But oh well.   
> I may or may not have welled up as I finished.   
> Thank you for all your love and support.  
> I love you all so much.  
> See ya later.  
> Sweet potaters.

**Author's Note:**

> So, how'd you all like it?  
> Don't worry, there will be action and violence!  
> And fluff! Lots of fluff!  
> Comment, rate, review~


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